





Library of Che Theological Seminary 


PRINCETON : NEW JERSEY 


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PRESENTED BY 
John Stuart Conning, D.D. 
PAP ote. nto he LoesG 


Asch, Sholem, 1880-1957. 
Kiddush Ha-Shem 





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KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


AN EPIC OF 1648 


BY 


SHOLOM ASH 


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TRANSLATED BY 


RUFUS LEARSI 





PHILADELPHIA 
THE JEWISH PUBLICATION SOCIETY OF AMERICA 
1926 


Copyright 1926 by 
THE JEWISH PUBLICATION SOCIETY OF AMERICA 


Printed at 
THE JEWISH PUBLICATION SOCIETY PRESS 


To DR. J. L. MAGNES 


in token of esteem and affection 


Digitized by the Internet Archive 
In 2022 with funding from 
Princeton Theological Seminary Library 


httos://archive.org/details/kiddushhashemepi00asch 


“We are ashamed to write down all that the Cossacks and 
Tatars did unto the Jews, lest we disgrace the species man who 
is created in the image of God.” 

——From an old Chronicle. 


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Peary! 
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PART I 


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Pee pa 
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1 


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CHAPTER ONE 
FAR OUT UPON THE STEPPES 


Not a thing could be seen. Everything was en- 
veloped in a cloud of smoke which poured right into 
the room from the oven, where the fire had just been 
started. Out of the smoke could be heard the small 
shrill voice of a little boy straining to keep up with 
the impatient voice of a man. They were chanting 
a verse from the Pentateuch, the original Hebrew 
and the Yiddish translation following each other in 
alternate phrases. 

‘““Va-yomer—and He spoke, EHlohim—God, el- 
Moshe—to Moses, lemor—saying.”’ 

When the wreaths of smoke grew thinner, there 
appeared, as through a mist, first the great oven 
taking up half the room, and on top of it something 
large, uncouth and shadowy. Soon the thing began 
to stir, and it seemed as though a portion of the oven 
was breaking away from the rest. Gradually it 
assumed the shape of a human being with a huge 
abdomen and a long red beard. And a massive 
table appeared through the smoke with numerous 
barrels and brandy kegs on it, some shelves covered 
with dry goods, strings of candles hanging from one 
of them. At the table sat a Jew with curly ear-locks 
beneath a feather-covered cap. He was wrapped 
in a sort of woman’s quilt-gown kept in place by a 


2 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


scarf and shawl, and was swaying over a large book. 
On one of the brandy kegs sat a little boy dressed 
all in white and wrapped in a small prayer-shawl. 
He was swaying over the Pentateuch in unison with 
his father, and repeated in his shrill little voice: 

‘“‘ Va-yomer—and He spoke, Hlohtim—God, el 
Moshe—to Moses, lemor—saying.”’ 

But father and son were not permitted to sit long 
over the Holy Book. From the oven now began 
to move forward that large, dim, uncouth mass. 
And only now, when it was quite clear of the oven, 
was it possible to discern its outlines. It was a 
tall, stout Greek-Orthodox priest, a massive, stag- 
gering figure. His hands were stuck into his broad, 
red girdle; with a movement of his forehead and 
without using his hands, he jerked his tall fur hat 
to the crown of his head. Beads of perspiration 
broke out on his low forehead, rolled down his hairy 
nose and disappeared in the endless mazes of his 
long beard. For a minute he looked blankly at 
the Jew. Then he said: 

““Mendelu, Mendelu, have pity on a Christian 
soul. Only one more measure, just to drive away 
the accursed Satan, the evil spirit which torments 
me to get drunk. I'll put him to sleep and drive 
him out. Have pity, Mendelu!’’ 

“Ay, ay, Little Father, you will not give that wicked 
Devil his fill, you will not drive him away. The 
more you'll pour into his unclean throat, the more 
he’ll torment you. Better not feed him, better 
let him starve. When the accursed demon will 


FAR OUT UPON THE STEPPES 3 


realize that he can expect nothing from you he will 
leave you, he will enter into Stepan, into Hidrak, 
but he will leave you.”’ 

“Well said! Wisely spoken! You are a man of 
sense, Mendel, I will obey you,” says the large priest, 
and returns to his place on the wooden bench near 
the oven and tries to sit still, supporting his massive 
head in both his hands, and with his long red beard 
wiping the beads of perspiration from his face. 

““Va-yomer—and he spake, Moshe—Moses, el b’naz 
Yisroel—unto the children of Israel, lemor—saying”’, 
the Jew resumed his work with the boy. 

The priest seized on the word Moses and played 
with it as he twisted his long red beard. 

‘Moses, Moshe, Mosé—we know him, we are 
familiar with him. We’ve read about him in the 
Holy Books. He saw God, spoke with God, ascended 
Mount Sinai,—we know about him. A shepherd he 
was, a good shepherd to his flock—not like you, 
Stepan Kratkov,”’ he began to rail at himself, ‘‘not 
like you, in whose fat belly a devil has lodged and 
torments you. Oh, you thing accursed, you hound’s 
son, you won’t be quiet, will you? I’ll beat you, 
beat you out of me! Take this, now!’’ and the 
tall priest began to strike with both hands and with 
all his might at his huge stomach. 

“Little Father, dear Little Father, what are you 
doing? What ails you?” the frightened Jew ex- 
claimed, and his ear-locks began to shake with fear. 

‘““He won’t be quiet, the hound’s son,”’ the priest 
points to his stomach, ‘‘so I’m going to beat him out.”’ 


4 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


“Not too hard, gently, gently,’’ the Jew implored, 
and resumed his occupation with the boy. 

Soon, however, the priest again approached the 
table and, with abashed mien, said to the Jew: 

“T beat him but he will not calm down, the hound ’s 
son. I'll tell you what, Mendel,—I’ll treat him like 
a good Christian. He torments me and in return 
I'll give him brandy. I'll treat him with Christian 
love, that’s how I’ll fix him. He’ll get scared and 
run away. For wherever Satan feels that Christ 
is near he avoids that place. Save a soul, dear 
friend, help carry out a Christian purpose. It’s 
to expel Satan from a sinful belly. Help, Mendel, 
dear!”’ 

An appeal of that sort the Jew was both unable 
and afraid todeny. Hesighed deeply over the honest 
penny which he lost through the bargain between 
Satan and Christian love, a bargain in which he was 
dragged in against his will. He poured the “‘little 
shepherd”’ a large measure of whiskey, and with even 
greater energy resumed his swaying over the Penta- 
teuch which lay open before him on the four-fringed 
garment. And the Little Father took up the holy 
work of expelling the Devil from his huge stomach 
with the help of Christian love and Jewish whiskey. 


This scene was enacted by the shepherd of the Greek 
Orthodox flock, Father Stepan, and the Jewish inn- 
keeper Mendel on a snowy winter afternoon in the 
inn of Zlochov. Zlochov lay far out on the steppe 
of Podolya, not far from the “green meadow,’’ 


FAR OUT UPON THE STEPPES 5 


and belonged to the district squire of Chernin, 
Konitz-Polski. Mendel was the only Jew who had 
the courage to hold in lease the inn as well as the 
Greek Orthodox Church so far out on the steppes 
near the Zaporozhe Cossacks. Mendel even carried 
on a trade with the Zaporozhes, and would often 
go to the Setch on either side of the Dnieper, where 
the Cossack freemen used to gather to take counsel 
before waging war on the Turk or for the purpose 
of choosing their Hetmans. Mendel used to take 
to the Cossacks calfskin leather, which he obtained 
from the Jewish tanners of Volhynia, sheepskin coats, 
flaxen shawls, dyed peasants’ wool, fruit brandy and 
Jewish honey cakes, which Mendel’s wife knew so 
well how to bake and which the Cossacks found so 
delicious. Sometimes he would come home from 
the Setch with his beard half plucked or minus one 
of his ear-locks, but always with his bag full of copper 
coins, Polish pazms and guldens, pieces of Turkish 
silver; or he would bring back in barter for his goods 
Turkish guns and swords with carved ivory handles 
and studded with precious Oriental stones, Tatar 
carpets or Cossack cloaks of fox-skin. And Mendel 
used to take the Cossack goods to the markets 
of Chihirin and Lubno, where dwelt the Baron 
Vishnewetzki, the lord of Russ, who was a friend of 
the Jews and in whose city the Jews were permitted 
to live and trade freely. 

Mendel lived on good terms with his neighbors, the 
Cossack braves. He kept a little store for them in 
the inn and he found his income more than ample. 


6 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


But Mendel felt ill at ease, for he could not live with- 
out Jews. And Jews refused to settle in Zlochov, 
for Zlochov was still an unhallowed spot. It had no 
synagogue and no Jewish cemetery. All his efforts 
to secure permission from the nobleman to build 
a synagogue were of no avail. Father Kozlowski of 
the Jesuits, who had his seat at Chihirin with the 
Mission for converting the Cossack peasants to 
Catholicism, opposed with all his power the granting 
of permission for a synagogue in Zlochov out of 
fear lest the Jews turn the Cossacks away from the 
Catholic faith. And in order to humiliate the Greek 
Orthodox faith in the eyes of the Cossacks, he forced 
the innkeeper to hold their church in lease, so that 
they were compelled to apply to the Jew of the inn 
for the key to their church. 

Mendel made every effort to observe strictly his 
Jewish faith in that lonely inn in the heart of the 
steppes among the Cossacks. For the Holy Days 
he used to go to Chihirin, where he put in “a stock 
of Judaism”’ for the entire year. 

His only son Shlomo, whom God had vouchsafed 
to him after his wife, Yocheved, had been childless 
for six years, and whom, by way of a protecting charm, 
they still dressed in white, was now a grown boy, 
six years old, but no Hebrew teacher would come out 
to the inn. Whatever he knew Mendel taught him 
himself. But a great deal Mendel himself did not 
know, and sometimes a ritual question comes up, and 
the holy books are sealed to him, and the home takes 
on a certain coarseness. The wife acquires the cus- 


FAR OUT UPON THE STEPPES 7 


toms of the Cossack women, and he himself does 
not know what is permitted and what isnot. He has 
long since been anxious to give up the inn and move 
into some Jewish settlement, but it is hard to aban- 
don one’s livelihood. And so, as far as he was able, | 
he taught Shlomo himself, seated at the table of the 
inn among the kegs of spirits and the drunkards, as 
he was doing when he was interrupted by Father 
Stepan and his Devil, and teaching his little boy all 
he knew: ‘ Va-yomer—and He spake, Adonai—God, 
el Moshe—to Moses, lemor—saying...”’ 

It would seem, however, that Satan had really 
been frightened by the Christian love which the 
priest administered to him. And when the Little 
Father Stepan was quite drunk, he began to talk 
like a sober man. He suddenly began to beat his 
breast with his fist and to rail at himself: 

“You are a sinful man, Little Father Stepan. 
God entrusted you with a flock of little lambs to feed, 
put the shepherd’s crook into your hands: ‘take 
them out to the pasture when they are hungry, 
and give them to drink when they are thirsty’. 
But you have not done it. You have not taken them 
out to pasture when they were hungry, nor have 
you given them to drink when they were thirsty. 
Instead, you have sold your soul to the Jew for a 
measure of spirits. He sits there and prays to his 
God, while you, Little Father, are guzzling. It’s 
clear, you, my little Jew, have done it. I know it. 
You have made me drunk while you are praying to 
God.” 


8 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


“Dear Little Father, what are you saying? What 
nonsense are you prattling? Go to your church, 
Little Father,—here, take the key to your church! 
Pray to your own God, as much as you like,—am 
I preventing you? On the contrary, a Jew likes to 
see Christians pray, likes it very much. Here, take 
the key and go to your church.” 

‘“ And the keys to the holy church they have turned 
over to the Jew. They have insulted the church,— 
insulted the faith, and you, little shepherd, you sit 
and guzzle. Oh, they will come galloping, the little 
brothers of the steppes, oh, they will come, those 
fine lads, on their lightfooted horses, they will come 
from across the Dnieper and they will avenge the 
insult to God. They will free the people from the 
Pans, the churches from the Jews, and they will 
avenge the insult to God.”’ | 

‘Woe is me, what is it I hear? Shh! Hush!” 
and the Jewran up from behind the table and covered 
with his hand the mouth of the priest. ‘Shh! 
Hush! The walls will hear it, the winds will carry 
it to the Pan, they will flay you alive—Hush, hush!—”’ 
and the Jew looked about him in fear, his ear-locks 
trembling, lest someone should have heard the priest’s 
words. “Hush! I’ll give you brandy—here! Take 
it and drink! Ah! Father in Heaven, I’m at the 
end of my strength! That he should have begun in 
my inn! Why do you punish me so?—A second 
measure for nothing! Ah, may it give him a disease! 
Here, drink and be silent!”’ 

Throwing the Jew into a scare with ‘‘the little 


FAR OUT UPON THE STEPPES 9 


brothers of the steppe’? was the best method of 
getting whiskey from him after the method of the 
Devil and Christian love. When the priest had 
gotten the brimming measure which the Jew, in his 
great haste, had allowed to run over, he became 
calm, seated himself again on the bench of the oven, 
and, twisting with his hands his long, red beard, 
he took a sip every now and then. And the Jew 
returned to his place behind the table, but was unable 
to go on with his teaching. He groaned again and 
again. 

‘“‘Dear Father in Heaven, why do you punish me 
so? Wherein have I sinned? If I refuse to hold 
the church in lease, I catch it from the Polish Jesuit; 
if I do hold the church in lease, this one scares me 
with his little brothers. And a synagogue is not 
allowed, and Jews are not to be found, and learning 
I have none, and the son is growing up without Torah! 
I’ll give up this inn! I’ll run away from Zlochov, 
I’ll run wherever my legs will carry me! Without 
a synagogue and without Jews—only drunken priests! 
Ah! woe is me!” 

“Don’t you run away, Mendelu,—don’t you for- 
sake us, Mendelu,’’ rejoined the priest who, to all 
appearances, had not paid any heed to the words 
of the Jew. ‘You are like a good little father to 
us; and as for a synagogue, we’ll give you one. The 
little brothers will come from the steppe, they will 
come on their lightfooted horses, will kill all the 
Pans and give you a synagogue. [’ll intercede for 
you.” 


10 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


“Help, help! He is beginning again with the 
little brothers! Hush, be silent, hush!’’ And again 
the Jew ran out from behind the table in great fear. 


Who knows how the matter would have ended if 
old Marusha, an old strong Cossack woman who was 
in service at the Jew’s, had not come to his aid in 
his hour of need. She came in from the next house, 
which was fenced off from the inn where the Jew lived, 
and took her stand in front of the priest with her 
arms, thick, muscular, and naked in the cold winter 
day, akimbo. ) 


‘“‘Tt’s necessary, Little Father, to beat you up a 
little for your own good,”’ said the old woman, ‘‘other- 
wise you'll not calm down. You have made the 
Devil groggy and now some demon speaks out of 


99 


you. 


‘‘Help, mother dear, help! Do a Christian deed. 
I have beaten him, but he pays no attention to me. 
He is on too familiar terms with me, the Devil.’’ 


“Wait, dear Little Father, wait, I’ll help you.” 
And she took the slop-pail which stood near the door 
of the inn and spilled the contents over the head of 
the priest. — 


“Ah! How good!’ the priest spluttered with de- 
light. 

‘How now, Little Father, you feel better?’’ asked 
Marusha. 


“He needs to be beaten a little more, then he’ll 
quiet down altogether.”’ 


FAR OUT UPON THE STEPPES 11 


“Wait, Little Father, wait, I’ll help you.” And 
old Marusha went up to the priest, and with her two 
large, powerful fists she belabored his stomach. 

‘‘Easy now! not so hard! Gently, gently!’ the 
Jew gesticulated from a distance. 


CHAPTER TWO 
LosING COUNT OF THE Days 


Twilight began to filter in. The snow beneath the 
windows took on a reddish hue which soon became 
purple. The wind of the steppe beat upon the walls 
of the inn and behaved as though it would lift the 
straw roof of the house if it were not admitted. The 
inn became dark. The priest, after Marusha had 
driven the demon out of him, fell asleep on the bench 
in front of the oven. His snoring sounded like the 
blasts of a shepherd’s horn, and confused all who 
were in the room. 

The innkeeper’s wife, Yocheved, entered from the 
next room, which was separated by a thin partition 
wall. She had a piece of burning kindling wood in 
her hand which lighted up her young fresh face and 
the head-dress and shawls which she wore. She 
approached the oven and lighted a wick which was 
floating in a large vessel filled with melted wax. 
She lifted a large wooden bowl and began to pour 
into it flour for kneading dough. 

‘What are you doing, Yocheved?’”’ Mendel asked. 

“Kneading dough for the Sabbath bread. The 
oven is already warm.”’ 

‘“‘Sabbath bread in the middle of the week?’’ 

“Woe is me, it is Thursday today,’’ the woman 
answered in a tone of surprise. 


LOSING COUNT OF THE DAYS 13 


““Yocheved, you are making a mistake; it is only 
Wednesday. Have you lost the count again, 
Yocheved?’’ the man cried. ‘‘ Yocheved, we are living 
in a wilderness where there are no Jews, and you 
lose count of the days.” 


The woman stood with the burning stick of wood 
in her hand in a guilty attitude, and she said implor- 
ingly: 

“You are taking my heart out, Mendel. Look 
into the calendar. Why, it is Thursday today, 
Mendel.”’ 


Mendel groaned and approached the large card- 
board which hung on the wall of the inn,—the cal- 
endar which the Assembly of the Four Countries 
had published in Lublin for the use of the innkeepers 
in the outlying provinces. The calendar was under- 
lined in different colors, and little wooden pegs were 
stuck into it which served as different symbols 
that Mendel had devised for himself. For a very 
long time Mendel contemplated the calendar, then 
he asked his wife: 


‘““Yocheved, what day was the day before yester- 
day, Monday or Tuesday?”’ 


‘‘Woe is me, you don’t know what day it was day 
before yesterday? Mendel, Mendel, Mendel, if you 
don’t know, how am I to know, who am only a sin- 
ful woman?”’ 

Mendel again contemplated the calendar, while 
Yocheved stood near in agony. Her husband’s 
forgetting the day had the same effect on her as if 


14 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


she had lost her way in the steppe all alone and at 
night. 

‘Mendel, what are we going to do? Mendel, 
is it not a dreadful thing that a Jew should not know 
what day of the week it is?” 

“Why do you cry? Why do you shout? Call 
in Marusha.”’ 

Marusha, the Cossack woman who served in the 
house of Mendel, had become so expert in Jewish 
customs and religious duties in the course of the 
years that she had spent with Yocheved, that one 
of her functions was to look after the religious ob- 
servances of the home. With Shlomele, Mendel’s 
only son whom she had nursed and raised, she said 
the morning and evening prayers regularly. She 
reminded him to say the benedictions over his food 
at every meal. Marusha was also required to 
remember the day of the week so that they might 
know when to prepare for the Sabbath. 

Hearing the loud cries of her master and mistress, 
Marusha entered and, upon learning that they were 
confused in the calendar and did not know when to 
prepare for the Sabbath, she was so frightened that 
although she knew that the day before yesterday 
was Monday, she became bewildered and was afraid 
to say anything decisive in so important a matter. 

‘“How should I know, mistress, I am only a Chris- 
tian soul. It was either Monday or it was Tuesday. 
Oh Lord, have mercy.”’ 

Husband and wife looked at each other in alarm. 
All of them, the man, the woman and the servant, 


LOSING COUNT OF THE DAYS 15 


began to shout at once, and the boy, hearing the 
grown-ups shout, began tocry. The noise awakened 
the sleeping priest. He yawned several times and 
looked around in surprise. 

“Dear Little Father, save us,’’ Mendel implored 
him. ‘“‘Do you not know what day we had day 
before yesterday? Was it Monday or Tuesday?” 

““Monday—Tuesday—day before yesterday—. 
Wait, let me see,”’ said the priest, rolling up his 
sleeves and beginning to reckon on his fingers. ‘‘Saint 
George’s day is always on a Thursday, the first day 
after the second week after Saint Paul’s day when 
it begins to snow. That’s the time we say a special 
prayer in church for the holy Saint Anthony.”’ 

‘Woe is me, the priest has become your teacher. 
Mendel, Mendel!’ and the woman began to weep. 

Mendel turned again to the calendar, but his search 
was in vain. In order to know if it was Wednesday 
or Thursday he would have to know what the day 
before yesterday was, whether Monday or Tuesday, 
and there was not a living soul in Zlochov who could 
tell him that. 

For a minute the entire household was reduced 
to fear and terror. They were afraid to stir as if 
waiting for the world to come to an end. But sud- 
denly the door opened and, driven by the clattering 
wind, there stumbled into the inn a short, snow- 
covered creature, wrapped in an overcoat, shawls, 
scarves and all sorts of clothes. No human face 
was visible. So entirely covered with snow was the 
figure that it looked like a snowball. But by the 


16 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


voice which made itself heard, it was to be perceived 
that it was a human creature. 

‘‘Blessed be God, does a Jew live here?’ said 
the voice. 

“A Jew, a Jew,’’ answered the man, the woman, 
the servant, and even the priest, with immense joy, 
gathering around the short, snow-covered individual. 
The little snow-man began to peel off the snow-covered 
scarves, shawls and coats one after another and, after 
he had thrown aside his various garments, there 
remained standing a slight, short Jew with snow-white 
hair, a short white beard, a pair of brilliant child- 
like eyes and a smile which was wise and child-like 
at the same time. He held out a hand of greeting 
to Mendel. 

‘Blessed be God, I have stumbled upon a Jew. 
Sholom aletchem!” | 

‘“Come close to the oven, friend, it is lighted,’’ said 
the innkeeper’s wife. 

The little Jew approached the oven and embraced 
it as one embraces a good old friend and said: 

“To think a Jew would go to live so far out in the 
steppe! Ah, Lord of the Universe, what places 
your Jews seek you out in! Way out in the steppe 
they seek you out, Father in Heaven.”’ 

“Whence have you roamed to this distant place?’ 
Mendel at last thought of asking. 

‘From nowhere in particular. I am, you see, a | 
jolly little tailor, well known, thank God, in these 
parts among the renters. I sew sheepskin coats 
and garments for the little ones, may they wear 


LOSING COUNT OF THE DAYS 17 


them in good health, trousseaus for weddings and 
such other things that Jews need. When I heard 
in Karsoon that Zlochov already has a Jewish inn- 
keeper, I thought to myself, I will take a trip down 
and find out how a Jew is getting along in such a 
far away place. And at the same time I might come 
upon a garment to sew over, or some children to 
teach, for, you see, I’m a teacher also, with the help 
of God.” 

“As if God Himself had brought you at just the 
right moment. We have forgotten what day of 
the week it is. Living among goyim all alone in 
the wilderness, we have lost count of the day’’, says 
the woman. ‘‘Do you not know, friend, what day 
of the week we Jews have today?”’ 

“Forgotten the day? My, my! What need has 
a Jew for knowing the day of the week in a wilderness? 
On account of the Sabbath, I suppose, to know when 
to knead the dough for the white Sabbath bread. 
See, dear Father, how faithful Your Jews are to You 
even in the wild steppe. Among goyim they forget 
You not, they observe Your Sabbath, and are deeply 
grieved when they forget the day of the week. I 
will let you know it, and soon. Let me only look 
at my knots.’’ And the little Jew takes up the cord 
of his pack. “It happens often that I too forget 
the day, so I make these signs. Every day I make 
a knot in the cord of my pack. My knots tell me 
that today we have,—let me see—yes! the fourth 
day of the week,—Wednesday, for all Jews! And 
here let me give you some good advice. Lay up 


18 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


pieces of wood on the oven for a sign as other renters 
are doing. On Sunday you put one piece of wood 
on the oven, Monday another, Tuesday still another, 
and when you count seven pieces of wood you know 
that the holy Sabbath has come. And that is done 
by the woman of the house,’’ he turned to Yocheved, 
‘because it is dangerous to depend on the man.” 

“Many thanks for the good advice you give us,” 
says Mendel on behalf of his bashful wife. ‘“‘Now 
go and prepare some barley soup for our guest.” 
And turning to the latter he said: | 

“Until my wife will have the barley ready we will 
say the evening prayer. It is getting late.” 

The inn was now transformed into a synagogue. 
In one corner stood the father with his son, in the 
other the guest, and they pronounced the Eighteen 
Benedictions together. 

From the oven came the odor of the barley-soup 
which Yocheved seasoned with an onion. The odor 
pervaded the room and teased the appetite of the big 
priest. He inhaled it through his big nostrils, swallowed 
his saliva and smacked his lips. He knew, however, 
that his prospects for sharing in the plate of barley 
soup were slim and he became very sad. He rubbed 
his back against the oven and, licking his lips like — 
a kitten, he said to himself with great self-pity: 

“Ah, dear Father, dear God, the blasphemous 
Jews are eating barley-soup with sliced onions, and a 
pious Christian soul has to starve. Avenge yourself 
dear Father, dear God!” 

Mendel pretended not to notice the glowing eyes 


LOSING COUNT OF THE DAYS 19. 


of the overheated, red-faced priest. He invited his 
guest into the next room and posted Marusha behind 
the table of the inn to stand guard over the barrels 
and flasks of brandy. And the priest groaned bitterly 
on seeing Marusha with her bare arms standing 
behind the table. All his hopes vanished and he 
strove to give himself over to pious thoughts. 

During the meal, while the guest was enveloped 
in the vapor which rose from the earthenware dish 
of barley-soup in the center of the table, he examined 
the boy. Pinching Shlomele’s cheek, he asked: 

“Well, tell me, big fellow, what are you learning 
now?” 

‘Six years old already, praise God,’’ his father 
answers for him, “‘and he has only begun the Bible. 
It is hard being a Jew in the steppe.”’ 

“God will compensate you,”’ the guest consoles 
him. ‘You will some day have the privilege of 
seeing Zlochov a Jewish settlement, and you will 
live to be the Parnas of the community.”’ 

Mendel was thoughtful a while. 

‘And the place really needs a synagogue,” the 
guest added... ‘‘Such a large, broad steppe and with- 
out a synagogue. And if the Lord of the Universe 
wants His Jews to pray to Him, the nobleman will 
have to grant the synagogue. He will have to, he 
will be compelled to. Heaven itself will compel 
him. Is it possible for him to oppose it?” 


CHAPTER THREE 
A SyNAGOGUE! A SYNAGOGUE! 


The Lord Konitz-Polski came down to Zlochov 
for the hunt, and in his hunting-lodge he arranged 
a ball for his guests. The steward of Zlochov sent 
Mendel to Nemirov for a Jewish band of musicians 
and a supply of gloves, which Mendel was to sell 
to “their Excellencies’”’ for dancing with the noble 
Polish ladies. 


The hunting-lodge was built with high towers in 
the Swedish style, and the halls were lighted by numer- 
ous candles in iron chandeliers. And the Polish 
gentlemen in long capes with broad sable collars 
hanging down their shoulders, holding in their hands 
their Hussar caps decorated with peacock feathers, 
led to the Mazurka the noble ladies who were dressed 
in white satin trimmed with royal ermine. The Jew- 
ish fiddle quavered, scraping out long-drawn tunes, and 
the Jewish cymbals of the Nemirov band beat sweetly 
and resonantly to the measure. Their “Exalted 
Excellencies”’ beat time to the music with the pointed 
bronze spurs of their heels, and the ladies also beat 
time with the golden little heels with which their 
fur boots were ornamented, and Mendel ran about 
with new-pressed gloves from one gallant to another, 
saying beseechingly: 


A SYNAGOGUE! A SYNAGOGUE! a1 


‘‘A pair of gloves for the dance with the beautiful 
and radiant noble lady.”’ 

After each dance the gallants threw away their 
gloves and snatched up a new pair from Mendel. It 
was not proper to use the same pair with the new 
partner. Mendel’s little boy, Shlomele, with the 
trembling ear-locks, went in and out between the 
legs of the gentlemen, collected the gloves which 
had been thrown away and brought them to his 
father. The latter put them into the wooden press, 
made them smooth and peddled them again among 
the cavaliers. 

“Change your gloves, Excellencies,—in honor of 
the ladies, change your gloves. It is not proper to 
dance with the radiant noble ladies in used gloves, 
Excellencies.”’ 

Mendel did not rest a minute. When he was not 
selling the gloves, he pressed them, singing at the 
same time verses from the Psalms, which he knew 
by heart, and spacing them with sighs and groans. 

‘“‘Ah, how the Gentiles rejoice—my calamities on 
them, my wife’s travailing ills and my child’s tooth- 
ache and measles and fever, dear Father in Heaven. 
Gross materialists they are, gluttons and drunkards 
and idol worshippers. And a synagogue, a holy 
synagogue they will not permit to be built. Is it not 
time that Thou shouldst rebuild Thy Holy Temple? 
Well, I suppose the time is not yet, so let it be as 
is pleasing unto Thee, Father in Heaven!” 

‘“‘Hey, there, Jew! stop mumbling your devilish 
prayer. You are going to bring the devil down upon 


aie KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


us! Let me have gloves for the Mazurka with the 
noble little lady of Zlochov, the radiant and ador- 
able Mademoiselle Sophie, whose little head is like 
a white dove,—but not the pressed ones which your 
little bastard is picking up from under the feet of 
the dancers—bright and new they must be for the 
delicately shaped waist of my dove-headed angel.” 

“What is your Exalted Excellency saying? 
Who am I that would dare to defraud so Exalted 
an Excellency like yourself? Why, I even knew 
your father, the noble old gentleman. Ah, what a 
good nobleman he was!’”” And in Hebrew he added: 
“Thus perish all the wicked.” 

“What cursed thing is that which you said in your 
devil’s language? I will flay you alive if you will 
curse my father in his grave.”’ 

‘I blessed your father, blessed him in our holy 
language before our God, that he may dwell in our 
beautiful Heaven.” 

“Bless not and curse not, Jew. Have a care for 
your skin and hide beneath your wife’s skirts when 
I set my dogs on you. Faster, Jew, faster, hurry 
Inow, my feet are on edge for the dance.” 

‘“‘One more minute, Excellency. Let them stay 
in the press another minute. The longer they are 
in the press the cleaner and the firmer do they become. 
Just like a human being, Excellency. Just like us 
Jews, Excellency.” 

At this point there approached the proprietor 
of Zlochov, the Lord Konitz-Polski, tall, broad- 
shouldered and powerful, like a great oak tree. 


A SYNAGOGUE! A SYNAGOGUE! 23 


His long black satin coat, which reached down to 
his feet, made his body appear even more powerful, 
and he looked as though he had been carved out of 
wood, like a huge stump, except that from his broad 
shoulders emerged, like a tower on a roof, his long 
pointed head with shaved ear-locks and crown. His 
big, thick mustaches, like those of a powerful catfish, 
ran from ear to ear. 

‘Listen, Jew, you will entertain my guests tonight 
with one of the songs which you sing. If you will 
sing well, you will be able to obtain something from 
me, understand?’’ 

“I understand, Exalted Excellency.” 

The Jew sprang backwards from the nobleman and 
called his little son, who was still engaged in picking 
up the discarded gloves from under the feet of the 
dancers. His father smoothed out his ear-locks and 
stationed him near himself. The gentlemen and 
noble ladies began to gather round the Jew and the 
little boy. The hall became silent, the musicians 
stopped playing, only the burning candles sputtered 
from time to time, and from the distant corners and 
neighboring rooms could be heard the muffled laughter 
and twitter of the radiant blond maidens and love- 
sick ‘‘Excellencies’’. 

The preparations lasted a long time. Suddenly 
the Jew became completely transformed. He closed 
his eyes and his face flushed red. It was clear that 
he was struggling to transport himself, to attain 
some other region. And suddenly he _ succeeded. 
With a quick movement he put one of his fingers under 


24 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


his chin and all at once began to sing. At first he 
sang slowly and softly, as though humming to him- 
self, but soon his singing became louder, his voice 
acquired daring. The Jew lost consciousness of 
his surroundings. The nobles laughed a moment 
longer, but soon they were completely silent. It 
appeared as if the Jew were the sole master of that 
vast hall. He saw neither the gentlemen nor the 
ladies nor the glitter of satin and furs which surrounded 
him. No one was there but he alone—he and his 
betrothed. And it was no mortal woman to whom 
he now intoned his great song of praise, but a higher, 
a spiritual being. It was his Sabbath, his Mother, 
to whom he sang; he sang to his hopes, to his tribu- 
lations: 

‘“‘“A woman of valor who can find?” 

No serenade to an earthly mistress did he sing, but 
a serenade to his heavenly mistress, to the invisible 
and ineffable bliss which she grants to him who thinks 
ofher. Hesang of the great holiness and purity which 
emanate from her and make beautiful those who 
think of her and love her. Of his Bride the Sabbath 
he sang, of his only Bride of thousands of years, and 
of the great and everlasting love which his children’s 
children unto the last generation will feel for the 
Eternal Bride. The misfortunes and humiliations 
which he bears for her sake became transformed into 
honor and glory, the life of a dog was changed into 
the life of a prince. Through the love which is 
borne her, she transforms all things into heavenly 
bliss. Of what importance then were his neighbors 


A SYNAGOGUE! A SYNAGOGUE! 25 


and the nobles with their puny possessions, with 
their tiny bit of earthly happiness, with their vain 
and evanescent human strength and power, compared 
to the eternity of his love for his magnificent Bride? 

The nobles were silenced and abashed in the pres- 
ence of the mighty nobleman standing in their midst 
and singing a song of eternal love. 

“You have served me well! You have sung well, 
and my guests are pleased, Jew. Say what you wish. 
Ask for a great deal, and don’t be too long about it. 
I am more afraid of your craftiness than of your 
appetite,’’ the Pan laughed. 

‘““Exalted Excellency,’’ the Jew threw himself at 
the feet of the noble, ‘‘a synagogue and a cemetery! 
A synagogue for prayer, and a cemetery for burying 
our dead. Give us permission to have a synagogue 
and a cemetery in Zlochov.”’ 

The squire fell to thinking for a minute. He re- 
membered the pearls which Zechariah of Chihirin 
brought him when he came to that city. Zlochov 
would likewise become a considerable settlement 
and would pay taxes, but how would God and Father 
Kozlowski like it? But an idea promptly occurred 
to him which would serve the double purpose of 
insuring good taxes and guaranteeing that God would 
be pleased. 

“Tf you will bow your head three times before 
our Lord Jesus Christ and pronounce the Benedic- 
tion before Holy Mary three times, I will grant the 
permission and give you a handsome site for a ceme- 


tery.”’ 


26 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


The Jew remained silent, and as though stunned. 

“Well, Jew, shall we settle the affair? You need 
only say, ‘Mary, Holiest Mother of God, be Thou 
praised for ever and ever, Amen.’”’ 

The Jew remained silent. 

“Well, Jew, kneel but before her.’’ 

The Jew was still silent. 

‘Then you will have to play the bear.’’ 

The Jew turned pale and began to stammer. 

‘‘Exalted Excellency, I am only a poor Jew. 
Have pity on my wife, on my little children. Pray, 
Shlomele, my little boy, pray to the noble lord. 
Have pity, Exalted Excellency, I will always serve 
you faithfully. ”’ 

And father and child embraced the squire’s feet 
and kissed his boots and the floor in front of him, and 
beat the floor with their foreheads. 

‘“‘Have pity on the little orphans, Exalted Ex- 
cellency.”’ 

‘‘Either pronounce the Benediction or play the 
bear.”’ 

The Jew thought a while. He was pale and fright- 
ened, and kept repeating verses from the Psalms and 
the prayers, kissing the coat and boots of the noble. 
But suddenly he saw light. His hands and knees 
still trembled, but his face was now calm and tranquil. 

“For a synagogue, Exalted Excellency. Have 
pity. God will help. Doas you will.” 

The noble motioned with his head, and two ser- 
vants took the Jew and pulled over him the skin of 
a bear. The noble then ordered the musicians to 


A SYNAGOGUE! A SYNAGOGUE! 27 


play, and the two servants began to lash the bear 
with long whips. The bear jumped about, growling: 
este Dit 

The noble gentlemen writhed with laughter and 
pushed one another towards the bear, and the ser- 
vants lashed and chased him from place to place. 
The Jew behind the bearskin growled: 

“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom 
shall I fear?-—Brr, brr!’ And he sprang on all 
fours from place to place. ‘“‘The Lord is the strong- 
hold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”’ 

“You have played the bear well, Jew. You shall 
have the synagogue for it; the cemetery you are still 
to earn.” 

Breathless the Jew ran home from the hunting- 
lodge, his long four-fringed prayer-shawl getting 
tangled between his legs. The little boy with the 
trembling ear-locks ran after him, and from the other 
side of the road both cried out, bringing the good 
tidings to the mother: 

‘“‘A synagogue! A synagogue!” 


CHAPTER FOUR 
THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 


Promptly it became known throughout Podolya 
and Volhynia, wherever Jews were to be found, that 
a new Jewish settlement had been established. 
Zlochov having obtained permission to build a syn- 
agogue, Jews from all the surrounding districts be- 
gan to move into that town. There came Jews from 
Kherson, from Chihirin, from the other side of the 
Dnieper, from Lubno, from Lachovitch and from 
Preyaslaw. For the reports stated further that 
Zlochov was a good place for making a living. It 
was not far from the Setch, and it was possible to 
carry on trade with the Cossacks; and Jews came 
even from Little Poland who, at the annual fairs 
which were held in Yarislaw and Lublin, had heard 
that Zlochov had become a Jewish settlement. 

First of all the Jews set to work building the syna- 
gogue. They contributed towards the common 
fund whatever they could, the women offering their 
jewels. Two Jewish master builders were brought 
down from Nemirov and commissioned to build 
the synagogue. 

It took two years to build it. The townspeople 
themselves took a hand in the actual building. The 
synagogue had to serve two purposes: as a house of 
prayer and as a place of defense against enemies. 


THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 29 


The synagogue was therefore built like a fort with 
iron doors and bolts. Nachman the blacksmith, 
who ran the town smithy, fashioned the iron door 
for the synagogue, the railing for the central platform, 
a large menorah for the pulpit-stand and a large 
Chanukkah lamp. His work was simple and rough, 
but performed with great love and diligence. All 
the artifices of which Nachman was capable he 
lavished on the railing for the central platform, on 
the Menorah and on the Chanukkah lamp. The 
same was done by Boruch the carpenter. Under 
the supervision of the two master builders from Nemi- 
rov he carved various figures and designs which he 
remembered from the days of his apprenticeship, 
pigeons and other birds, stags and lions, the symbols 
of the twelve tribes and the signs of the Zodiac. 
Through long nights he sat by the light of a burning 
stick of wood, carving the woodwork for the synagogue. 
And when the head of a household went to the annual 
fair in one of the large cities and saw an attractive 
object, a fine piece of silk for an ark-curtain, a bib- 
lical scene to hang on the east wall, a fancy chair 
in honor of the prophet Elijah or some other ornament, 
he bought it and took it home for the synagogue. 
And the women sat up through the winter nights in 
the inn with Mendel’s wife and, singing pious songs, 
sewed their jewels into the curtains for the Ark and 
into the covers for the scrolls of the Torah. 
Mendel, as the first settler of Zlochov, enjoying as 
he did the confidence of the Polish proprietor, be- 
came the parnas of the new community and, anxious 


30 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


that Zlochov should acquire some standing in the 
world, he decided to secure as rabbi some great scholar 
with a big reputation. 

The community at Lachovitch had a rabbi who 
was surnamed the ‘‘Gate of Justice’, and whose praises 
were sung loud throughout the region. Mendel 
made up his mind quickly, harnessed a wagon, pro- 
ceeded to Lachovitch, offered the rabbi twelve Polish 
pence a week more than Lachovitch gave, and granted, 
moreover, to the rabbi’s wife a monopoly in providing 
the town with candles. He thus obtained the rabbi’s 
consent together with a written promise. Later, 
when Lachovitch became aware of the matter, it 
was already too late. Mendel took the Gaon of 
Lachovitch to Zlochov, and in this way Zlochov at 
once acquired a name in the world. The rabbi 
organized classes, looked after the Hebrew schools, 
taught the young men Talmud, so that Zlochov be- 
gan to be a place of learning. 

And when it got to be known at the fairs of Yaris- 
law and Lublin that Zlochov had become a place 
of learning, there began to arrive in the new settle- 
ment not only artisans and merchants but also scholars 
and men of refinement. Reb Jacob Cohen came 
to Zlochov from a small town in Germany which had 
been destroyed following a blood accusation, only 
Reb Jacob, fleeing with the Torah scrolls of the 
town, escaping. And another was Reb Israel of 
Bohemia, who came to Zlochov with his little daughter 
from the town of Asch. They had heard at the annual 
fair in Lublin that in the distant regions of the steppe 


THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 31 


God had permitted settlements where Jews could 
find a livelihood, and so they came down to settle 
in Zlochov. 

And Mendel was anxious to bring about a union 
between his family and one of high pedigree, since 
Shlomele was already eight years old, and it was time 
to think of getting him married, in order, in this 
manner, to hasten the end of the Exile. And Mendel 
the parnas desired to ally himself with the ‘Gate 
of Justice’, who had a little girl of Shlomele’s age, 
so he promised maintenance to the couple all his 
life-time and a large number of gold coins. And in 
order to dedicate the synagogue, as was the custom, 
with a wedding of the first families of the town, the 
marriage ceremony was postponed until the day of 
dedication. The children, it is true, were still young, 
but this was done so as to grant them the privilege 
of dedicating the synagogue with their marriage. 


The synagogue was ready for Passover, but the 
dedication was postponed until Lag B’Omer, for 
that day is considered to be very lucky. 

Outside the synagogue looked small, that it might 
not be conspicuous in the eyes of the Gentiles, but 
inside it was high and wide. The floor was dug deep 
into the ground, twelve steps beneath the level of 
the entrance, and it sloped down even deeper so that 
the pulpit-stand where the cantor stood was the 
lowest spot of all. This was done for two reasons: 
in the first place, so that the synagogue should not 
loom big in the eyes of the Gentiles and, secondly, 


SP KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


when prayers were offered to God, it would be done 
in accordance with the verse in the Psalms: ‘Out 
of the depths I have called Thee, Oh Lord.’”’ But 
from the pulpit-stand there were carved steps which 
led up to the Ark, for it is not fitting that the Word of 
God should be lodged in the depths. 

On this day the Ark was draped in the new festive 
curtain, which was embroidered with silver threads 
on blue Florentine brocade. The crown of the Torah 
shone down from the curtain with the subdued 
Sabbath glow of the chaste pearls which used to 
lend so much grace to the pure white throats of 
the young Jewish matrons at the time of blessing 
the Sabbath candles. Those pearls were hallowed 
with the tranquil charm of Sabbath evenings. And 
deep-red rubies sparkled like red wine out of the 
clusters of grapes which hung on green branches 
made of emeralds. The names of the pious women 
and maidens were embroidered on the curtain, as 
well as their prayers, prayers for virtuous children 
and sweet hopes and modest and chaste longings for 
love. Thus did that little curtain exhale a feminine 
charm bestowed by the delicate fingers of women, 
and suggesting the chaste music which is heard is- 
suing from Jewish houses on Sabbath nights. 

In the center of the synagogue stood the platform 
built of hard chestnut wood and carved with the 
names of the twelve tribes and their standards. 
Each tribe had its own flag and color. Judah, as 
the king, was brilliant with gold, with the lion at 
his feet; Simeon with his captured city of Shechem, 


THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 33 


where rose up the walls and towers of that city which 
he had conquered to avenge the shame of his sister; 
and the ship of Zebulun floated in a sea of silver; 
the blossoming tree, the symbol of Asher, was studded 
with green stones; out of copper was fashioned the 
serpent of Dan. And above the platform hung a 
canopy like the deep blue sky of the evening in which 
golden stars twinkled and the twelve signs of the 
Zodiac floated in the blue night, each over its cor- 
responding tribe. On the platform there now stood 
the leading men with the scrolls of the Torah in their 
arms, ready to place them in the new dwelling which 
they had built for the glory of God. Among them 
stands Reb Jacob Cohen from Germany, and the 
scroll which he holds is the only thing left to him of 
his numerous family and of the entire community 
which was scattered and dispersed to the four cor- 
ners of the earth. And there stands Reb Israel with 
the scroll of the synagogue of the city of Asch. 
During the panic he had become separated from his 
wife and children, so he had come to Poland to look 
for them. For he had been told that many Jews 
from Bohemia had saved themselves in Poland. He 
had wandered from one fair to another until he came 
to Zlochov with his child, and settled there. 

And among these old worthies, rich with tribulations 
and tested in the fires of martyrdom, with the scrolls 
of the devastated communities in their arms, stood 
the new leader, the parnas of the community, Reb 
Mendel, with a new scroll which had been written 
at his behest for the new community of Zlochov. 


34 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


The new scroll has as yet no covering stained with 
the blood of martyrs and with the tears of fugitives. 
Its covering is still new and unstained, and its guardian 
Mendel, still looks strong and untried. His face is 
without the holy glow imparted by sorrow and suffer- 
ing and self-sacrifice; no trace, as yet, of that nobility 
which proceeds from the readiness for the supreme 
sacrifice. But with his large and heavy hands he 
clasps the new scroll of the Torah very tightly. 
There is fear in his heart because of the sacred bur- 
den which he has assumed to be the parnas of a 
community. He realizes how great and holy is the 
burden which is borne by the old parnasim, the 
leaders of the ruined communities among whom he 
now stands. And his heart beats fast. Will the 
time ever come when he, too, will have to stand by 
his community and his Torah, even as they had done, 
at the risk of his life? Will he be ready for the 
supreme sacrifice for the sanctification of His Name, 
even as they were? Will not his heart become faint? 
Is he worthy of the honor and the obligation which 
he has assumed? 

Suddenly the entire assemblage became silent. 
A holy stillness reigned throughout the synagogue 
as though some one invisible had entered. Reb 
Jacob took up his scroll of the Torah, lifted it on high 
and, in a voice full of tears, began to intone the prayer 
of gratitude of those who have been saved from great 
danger, thanking God who had rescued him from all 
perils and brought him, together with his scroll, 
to a place of safety. A subdued sobbing was heard 


THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 35 


from the women’s section below. It was the wife 
of one of the exiles who remembered her dear ones, 
from whom she had become separated. The weeping 
affected the entire congregation. They were seized 
with a dread of the days to come: Will they, too, 
ever have to abandon their synagogue, even as Reb 
Jacob had done, the synagogue which they had built 
with so much labor and love, and take their scrolls 
and go? Who can say what things are hidden in 
the lap of the days to come? And one after an- 
other the exiles intoned the prayer of the rescued. 
And when the young cantor, whom Reb Mendel had 
brought from Uman, began in his guttural voice 
to pronounce the names of those who had given their 
lives for the sanctification of His Name, the weeping 
became universal. From all eyes the tears flowed 
silently, and a prayer to God rose up from the depths 
of every heart, that the little synagogue might be 
their final place of rest and refuge until the coming 
of the Messiah. 

“‘God grant that this be our last exile,’”’ the Jews 
wished each other. 

‘““And may we be preserved from all evil.”” The 
women kissed each other and wept. 

Soon, however, the sorrowful mood departed, and 
the faces of young and old lighted up like a rain- 
covered field on which the sun is shining. It was 
the singing of the cantor, accompanied by Isaac 
Aaron’s playing on the violin, which lighted up every 
saddened countenance. The cantor was singing 
the portion prior to the opening of the Ark. 


36 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


And Shlomele, Mendel’s son, dressed in a coat 
of green silk which the little tailor, his teacher, had 
made him for his wedding, opened the Ark. One 
after another the men mounted the steps and placed 
the scrolls of the Torah into the new Ark. Two 
lions of wood with crowns on their heads stood one 
on each side of the Ark guarding the scrolls, and two 
large gilt eagles flew down, by means of a secret 
mechanism which the woodturner of Nemirov had 
invented, from the heights where they had rested 
beneath the starry blue sky, and remained suspended 
over the Ark, protecting the scrolls with their broad 
wings, First honors were given to the scrolls. of 
the exiles. First came old Reb Jacob with his scroll. 
Then followed Reb Israel of Germany, and then the 
rabbi of the synagogue. Last of all came Mendel 
with the new scroll of the community of Zlochov. 
And when his turn came to put his unadorned scroll 
into the Ark, he remained standing a minute before 
it and his heart was filled witha silent prayer: ‘Dear 
Father in Heaven, may it be a resting place for our 
children and children’s children,’’ and a tear, the 
first tear, fell from the eyes of the new parnas upon 
the robe of the Torah scroll. 

Soon the violin began to play, the drum beat to 
measure and a choir of little singers with thin little 
voices began tosing: ‘‘Lord who Fillest the Universe. ”’ 
The congregation took up the song, and with it 
their joy waxed ever greater. The sad mood van- 
ished as well as the dread which had reigned before. 
The joyous fervor of Jewish worship filled the 


THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 37 


Synagogue, and seized upon the people. The voices 
of the little choir boys tinkled like little bells around 
the necks of goats that are being taken to graze in 
green pastures. | 

And now the violins broke into the singing like 
a rush of fountains. They began to play the wedding 
music. The little tailor, Shlomele’s teacher, made, 
sexton of the synagogue, now came in, dressed in 
broad Polish trousers of the color of wool, which he| 
had sewed for himself for the wedding, skipping 
with the canopy-poles in his hands and crying half in 
Yiddish, half in Polish: 

“Ho there, Jews, stand aside, don’t you see who 
iscoming? It is Pan Itzik coming to the wedding!” 

The boys and young men took hold of the canopy- 
poles and set up the canopy on the platform. A 
flute was heard as if heralding the approach of a 
lord, and suddenly there broke upon the scene a red 
and golden shimmer and glittering of pearls and 
diamonds on the breasts of women, and tufts of 
feathers and jewels on headdresses. There was a 
sparkle of red silk from Slutzk interwoven with 
threads of gold, a crimson glow of blood-red beads 
in the midst of starry strings of pearls, and yellow 
agate bloomed like golden-yellow flowers on white 
satin. Delicate, white lace-points rose like the foam 
of the sea on the breasts of the women. Heavy, 
gold-embroidered scarfs wound over the silk as 
though anxious to guard the mysterious loveliness 
of feminine charms. Slowly and with dignified gait 
walked the mothers in all their pomp and splendor, 


38 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


leading the bride between them. She was still a 
little child, not yet ten years old, nevertheless she 
was needed in order “‘to hasten the coming of the 
Messiah.’’ Her black curls had fallen beneath the 
shears, and as the child did not know that her soul 
was required for the salvation of the world, she had 
protested and had not permitted her black locks to 
fall until Leah, thé bath-attendant, had paid her 
with sweet cookies, a cooky for each lock. Even 
now her road to the canopy is sweetened by the sugar 
cookies which she had purchased with her locks... 
She was dressed in the wedding-robe of gold cloth 
which the community had ordered. This coat was 
intended to be worn by every bride who was led 
to the canopy in order not to cause the poor to be 
ashamed who had no slik dresses of their own. For 
the first time she was wearing the wedding-dress, and 
after her all the brides of Zlochov would wear it 
when going to the canopy. And all the maidens 
of Zlochov, holding lighted tapers, twisted and 
colored brilliant Polish ribbons, illumined the road 
to the canopy of the first bride of Zlochov. 

Now the bride is already beneath the canopy and 
playing with the flounces of her dress, but the bride- 
groom is not there yet. The wedding bard has al- 
ready sung his ballad, the musicians have played 
their “‘piece’’, and the bridegroom is not yet in sight. 
In vain the sexton and the trustees are running about 
with lighted candles, looking in all the corners for 
the bridegroom. At last he was found hiding under- 
neath the chair of the prophet Elijah. He was be- 


THE DEDICATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE 39 


trayed by his long, green, silken coat, and his teacher 
chased him from beneath the chair with his stick: 

“Bridegroom, to the canopy with you!” 

But the little fellow kicked hard with his new spiked 
boots, and refused to come out from under the chair 
until his father pulled him out by his ear-locks. 

He was ashamed before his playmates, who stuck 
out their tongues behind him and sang in his ears 
the following rhyme: 

All the folks are gaily dancing, 
Laughing, singing, skipping, prancing, 
Shlomele still weeps and weeps. 
Shlomele, Shlomele, why dost weep? 
Why, I weep, ah well I know 

Neath the canopy I must go. 

He kicked with his heavy boots, but he went to 
the canopy, his father dragging him by his ear. 
They were afraid that he might run away from be- 
neath the canopy, so his father held him by the coat . 
on one side and his teacher on the other. He, there- 
fore, vented his wrath on the bride, digging her in 
the ribs until she won him over with one of the cookies 
which she had purchased with her locks. Then 
he consented to the match. 

And far and wide pealed the song of the new syna- 
gogue over the desert steppes of Ukraine, and the 
message was borne over field and forest, and every 
tree and every blade of grass whispered in the warm 
spring night: ‘‘A synagogue has been built, a 
marriage consecrated, God’s blessing is at hand! 
God’s blessing is at hand!” 


CHAPTER FIVE 
THE MARRIED COUPLE 


It cannot be said that the young couple, Shlomele 
and Deborah, lived on very friendly terms after the 
wedding. And to Shlomele’s shame it must be said 
that it was he who was always at fault whenever the 
domestic peace was disturbed. Shlomele, who was 
then thirteen years old and preparing for bar mizvah 
(confirmation), was attending the class of the Talmud 
teacher, and felt thoroughly at home in the great 
sea of the Talmud, conversant with all the laws of 
marriage, with the details of marriage contracts and 
with all the obligations which a wife owes to her 
husband and a husband to his wife. He was also 
familiar with all the laws of divorce. Shlomele, who 
knew how to unite two opposites by means of an 
adroit interpretation of a text, and could build up 
“towers of Babel’”’ by means of a pilpul, was often 
the recipient of a flogging at the hands of his teacher. 
The latter was very little impressed by the important 
position which Shlomele occupied in the world as 
a married man. The husband would then avenge 
himself for the lashes of his teacher on the head-dress 
of his little wife. Finding his wife seated near the 
threshhold of the inn, playing in the sand, he would 
snatch the head-dress from her head and fill it with 
sand. 


THE MARRIED COUPLE 41 


“There, that’s what you get for having mocked 
at me.” 

“For this they will flog you in hell with burning 
lashes,’’ his little wife warned him. 

“The sin is yours for standing under the sky with- 
out a covering for your head.”’ 

Then the wife declared their relations severed in 
the following terms: 

Shlomele, Shlomele, don’t speak to me, 
Blind your eyes and never see; 

Filled with blood little buckets two, 
Never will I speak to you. 

*Mong little buckets filled with chalk 
Will I never with you walk. 

Thereupon the young man accepted her declara- 
tion and turned on his heel. And his wife covered 
her eyes with both her hands so as not to see him. 

It is a Friday afternoon in the summer. The 
inn is full of Russian peasants and Polish Pans. 
Mendel is busy in the inn with the drygoods and the 
brandy, Yocheved with preparing for the Sabbath, 
and outside the children are engaged in a loud quarrel. 
Hearing the great noise, Marusha stepped out and, 
seeing what Shlomele had done with his little wife’s 
head-dress, she began to scold him. 

“Rascal that you are, is that the way to treat a 
wife? You should be fond of her, not throw sand 
on her head.”’ 

“Ha, ha’’, the young man stuck out his tongue 
at her. ‘‘You are of the lineage of Balaam’s ass, 
and you will have no portion in the world to come, 


42 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


and your soul will enter into a dog and a cat, because 
you are not descended from Father Jacob but from 
the wicked Esau.”’ 

“Tt is you who are descended from the wicked 
Esau. You are an Esau yourself,’’ the servant 
scolded him. ‘‘You have committed a sin, letting 
your wife stand outdoors with uncovered head. Is 
that permitted? For that they will burn and roast 
you in hell.”” Thus the Christian servant took up 
the little wife’s grievance. 

Shlomele remembered that he had not yet been 
given the pudding to which he is entitled on Fridays. 
He demanded it. 

“Give me the pudding, and have done 

“You first pronounce the Benediction, then you 
will get the pudding,”’ the servant insisted. 

‘“‘How does that concern you? JI’ll pronounce 
the Benediction without you. You give me the 
pudding.’’ | 

“You are the wicked Esau himself, and you are 
liable, God forbid, to eat without a Benediction.” 

There was no help for it, and Shlomele had to 
comply with the servant’s demand, although it 
gave him pain that the Christian woman was looking 
out for his religious observances. But, as the frag- 
rance of the blackberry pudding which the servant 
held reached his nostrils and made his mouth water, 
he pronounced the Benediction and was given the 
pudding. Over the pudding friendly relations be- 
tween husband and wife were re-established. Soon 
they were sitting together in perfect domestic tran- 


1? 


THE MARRIED COUPLE 43 


quillity on the doorstep of the inn, and sharing the 
pudding between them. 

But they were not allowed to sit long together in 
peace. Mendel’s voice made itself heard from the 
inn. 

““Shlomele! Shlomele!’’ 

And Marusha appeared in the doorway. ‘‘Go 
into the house, young rascal, your father wants you 
to go and open the church for the peasants.”’ 

When Shlomele came into the inn, he found his 
father in the center of a circle of Russian peasants 
and peasant women, and one peasant, half naked, 
barefooted and bareheaded, wearing only a long 
shirt, was holding in his arms an infant wrapped in 
rags and kneeling before Mendel. 

“Dear little father, have pity, let us have the key 
for the church, so we can christen the child. It is 
already four months old and not yet sprinkled with 
God’s water. He may die unchristened, and then 
the devil will take him away.”’ 

“Yes, and then some of you will tell the Polish 
priest that I gave the key without the fee, and he 
will have me flogged as he did at the time of Yephrem’s 
wedding. The Jew gets plenty of lashes for his own 
religion, and I have no desire to be flogged for another. 
I'll not do it.”’ 

““May we be stricken dumb, may our mouths be 
paralyzed if we say a single word,” the half naked 
peasant besought Mendel, kneeling in front of him. 
“Help, dear little father. The child is sick and is 
liable to die. It will fall into the hands of the devil, 


44 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


and then come and choke its father. Have pity, 
dear little father.” 

“Take the key, Shlomo, and open the church for 
the peasants,’’ and Mendel gave Shlomele the key, 
which hung on the nail together with the keys of 
the rooms where he stored the brandy. 

‘““God will repay you, dear little father, God will 
repay you,”’ and the half naked peasant kissed Mendel’s 
boots and followed Shlomo with the infant in his 
arms. 

‘‘Come, Father, do God’s work, the Jew has 
granted the key.’’ The peasant turned to the Greek 
Orthodox Priest who was sitting on the bench near 
the oven. 

But the priest did not stir. With his broad back 
he hid the oven from view and remained sitting as 
though he were plastered to the wall. 

“What are you waiting for, Little Father?”’ Mendel 
asked him. 

“There was a thimbleful of holy spirits in the 
church and the souls drank it, and without holy 
spirits God will not receive the soul into the 
Christian faith,’’ the priest replied. 

‘What do you want?” 

“Do a Christian deed, Mendel, help a poor naked 
soul to come into the Christian faith by contributing 
a bottle of wine for the church,” and the priest pulled 
an empty flask from his broad pocket and held it 
towards Mendel. ‘‘God will pay you for it. We 
are poor folk.” 

“Woe is me, he is beginning again! What does 


THE MARRIED COUPLE 45 


this lumbering creature want of me? The Polish priest 
will flog me to death. Haven’t I a wife and a child? 
I am not helping, I am not doing anything, I know 
of nothing whatever. You want the key to the 
church,—here take it. I have no need for it for 
myself. You want brandy,—here take some brandy. 
That’s what I keep the inn for,—to sell brandy. 
But how am I helping you? How, I ask? I am 
not helping at all. I am doing nothing at all. I 
know of nothing,’’ and Mendel poured a measure of 
brandy into the flask for the priest, and pushed him 
out of the inn. 

Shlomele opened the church for the priest and ran 
away swiftly so as not to touch the walls of the church. 
He stopped at a distance so as not to become “‘un- 
clean’’ from hearing the singing in the church. 
And when the priest’s bass voice reached him none 
the less, he covered his ears with his hands in order 
not to hear the sounds, which would stupefy his 
mind against the study of the Torah. 

His father waited for him near the door of 
the inn with a bundle of clean linen under his arm, 
and took him to the communal bath for the Sabbath 
ablutions, for the sexton had proclaimed in the 
market-place of the town that the bath was ready. 

On getting home from the bath, all clean and dressed 
in clean shirts with broad white collars folded over 
their long green coats, they found the inn transformed 
into a peaceful Sabbath nest. There was nothing 
in evidence which could remind one of an inn. The 
kegs of brandy were covered with white sheets, and 


46 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


before the shelves were hung shawls and curtains. 
The inn was tidied up and transformed into a Sabbath 
home looking as though no buying and selling of 
any sort had ever been conducted there. Seven 
pure tallow candles burned in the large brass candle- 
stick, on the base of which sparkled the words in 
Hebrew: “Lights for the Sabbath.” Two pairs 
of white loaves, one large pair for the master of 
the house and one small one for the young husband, 
were set upon the white linen-covered table together 
with a large silver cup and a small silver cup. And 
the mother with her daughter-in-law sat by the table, 
both dressed in long trailing coats of green silk and 
new lace head-dresses. Their white foreheads were 
bound with fillets, and on their bosoms sparkled the 
plates studded with jewels which they had received 
from their husbands. Little Deborah, looking as 
though she were disguised as a young wife, aped 
everything that her mother-in-law did, and Marusha, 
dressed for the Sabbath in a new apron and a new 
headkerchief, sat on a little stool near the oven and 
gazed with pride on the young mistress. Mother 
and daughter sang together a song in honor of the 
Sabbath before the blessing of the candles: 


A pleasant song I now will sing, 

With joyful voice which loud shall ring, 

In honor of the holy Queen far-famed: 
Sabbath is the name by which she is named. 


God, with whom doth ever dwell the light, 
May He send unto my home the Sabbath bright; 


THE MARRIED COUPLE 47 


For her dear sake my house I purified, 
Why lingers she so long outside? 


Six long days she roams in sun and rain 

Like one who doth in exile suffer bitter pain; 
Even like a bird from roof to roof she flies 
Until the hour when holy Sabbath hither hies. 


And when Shlomele had taken the large prayer 
book and was ready to go with his father to the 
synagogue, there was heard the noise of a big Polish 
equipage with many horses, which stopped in front 
of the inn. 

““Hey there, Jew, open! His Exalted Excellency, 
Pan Dombrowski, is knocking at your door. Open!” 

“Heavens, his great Excellency Pan Dombrowski 
is knocking at my door! I cannot, I cannot, dear 
master, it is the Sabbath now.”’ 

“Jew, I will have thirty lashes given you. Open 
the door!’’ 

‘“‘T must not, dear master. It is the Jew’s Sabbath 
now!” 

“How dare you, Jew? His Exalted Excellency, 
Pan Dombrowski, desires a glass of whiskey.” 

‘“‘I cannot, dear master, I must not, dear master, 
it is the Sabbath now.” 

‘‘Put a measure of brandy down behind the door. 
Not a drop to be had in the whole city.”’ 

“‘T cannot, dear master, my wife has already lighted 
the candles.’ — 


48 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


‘“‘Accursed Jew! When the Jew keeps his Sabbath 
all Poland must be without brandy,” said a voice 
from the other side of the door. 


CHAPTER SIX 
To THE YESHIVAH 


When Shlomele was fourteen years old, they made 
ready to send him to the famous Yeshivah of Lublin, 
where all Jewish young men of good family went 
to study. Mendel was planning to go to Lublin 
for the annual fair where the Assembly of the Four 
Countries, the Jewish Parliament, was to convene 
that year. Mendel desired to present himself to 
this body for the first time as parnas, and, also, to 
submit for its consideration an important matter 
which concerned the general Jewish welfare. 

One fine Friday afternoon the little tailor, Shlomele’s 
teacher, appeared in Zlochov. As soon as the Sab- 
bath was over, he sat down behind the oven in Mendel’s 
inn, armed with needle and thimble, to sew garments 
for Shlomele to take along on his journey. The 
little tailor made garments on the same principle 
as did the Jews of old in the desert, so that the gar- 
ments might grow along with the wearer. The 
lower edge he folded under so that by taking out 
the seam the garment could be made longer. Out 
of one of Mendel’s old garments the little tailor made 
a wadded winter overcoat for Shlomele. He made 
him a fancy coat of purple silk for Sabbaths and 
holidays, a pair of broad trousers of black calico and 
several coarse linen shirts. The little tailor sewed 


50 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


the garments in accordance with all the religious 
prescriptions, with round corners so as to exempt them 
from the necessity of having fringes, guarding care- 
fully against a mixture of wool and silk, not wasting 
a moment during his work and singing Psalms or 
studying the Mishnah, which he knew by heart. 

It was rumored concerning the little tailor that 
he was a Tzaddik incognito, one of the “thirty-six”’ 
by whose grace the world exists. The little tailor 
used to disappear from the town for several weeks 
at a time and to live in the deep forests. Some- 
times he would put in a sudden appearance, the day 
before the Sabbath, at the home of a solitary Jewish 
innkeeper and pronounce the Kzddush for the un- 
lettered man; or he would appear before a lonely 
woman in labor in the dead of night in some out-of- 
the-way inn, and wage war against the Lilith who 
had come to slay the child. Rumor had it that unto 
the little tailor in the forest used to come the souls of 
great scholars, who taught him the mysteries of 
the Torah. The garments which the little tailor 
sewed were a charm against various diseases. They 
would clothe in them a person who was dangerously 
ill, and he became well, or a woman in hard labor 
with child, and the child was born. 

In Mendel’s home the little tailor was regarded 
as a holy person, and his sewing as holy work. Silence 
reigned near the large oven where the little tailor 
sat and sewed garments for Shlomele. They were 
sure that the little tailor’s garments would protect 
him from all evil, and guard him throughout the 


TO THE YESHIVAH 51 


long period when Shlomele would be far from home 
among strangers. 

On the Sabbath before Shlomele left for the Ye- 
shivah, he was sitting in the large room on the wooden 
bench studying his portion of the Talmud. No one 
else was in the room, his parents beingasleep. Where- 
upon the old servant Marusha took little Deborah, 
his wife,'‘and decked her out in her finest clothes. A 
white, embroidered bonnet came down over her ears, 
and she wore a white embroidered apron over her 
green silk dress. Marusha gave her a pear and an 
apple and sent her in to Shlomele. The old woman 
herself stood behind the door and looked in through 
a crack. Seeing her husband, Deborah remained 
standing near the door, stuck her finger into her mouth 
and with the other hand held her white apron. 
Shlomele continued his Talmudic chant, throwing 
now and then a glance in her direction. All at once 
his little wife approached him and remained standing 
near him. Shlomele closed the large Talmud folio 
and looked at her. 

For a long time husband and wife looked at each 
other in silence. Then the little girl took into her 
hand one of the fringes of his long four-fringed gar- 
ment, which almost covered him completely. 

‘“You are going away?”’ 

‘““Ves,’’ Shlomele nodded. 

“T don’t want you to go away.” 

‘“‘T must go to the Yeshivah to study the Torah,— 
the rabbi has ordered it.”’ 

‘‘And when will you come back?” 


2 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


‘““When I shall be all grown up, and a first class 
student of Holy Torah.”’ 


Again the child was silent for a few moments. 
Then she suddenly exclaimed: 


“T want to go home to my mother.”’ 

“You cannot go home to your mother. You 
must stay here, because you are wedded to me in 
accordance with the law of Moses and Israel.’’ 


‘“‘T am not wedded to you.” 

“‘Do you remember when we both stood under the 
canopy the day when the synagogue was dedicated 
and I placed a little ring on your finger?”’ 

The little girl could find no answer to this. . 

“But I want to go home. I don’t want to stay 
here,’’ the little girl exclaimed, suddenly bowing her 
head towards him. 

“Why?” 

‘Just so.” 

“Why, just so?” 

‘‘ Because you are going away.” | 

“And if I will bring you something when I come 
back, will you stay here?”’ 

“What will you bring me?” 

“What should I bring you?”’ 

“A pair of golden slippers like your mother’s, with 
high heels.” 

“Very well, I’ll bring them for you.”’ 

“With golden laces?” 

“Yes. And you will not go home?” 

“No, I will not even cry.”’ 


TO THE YESHIVAH 53 


“Tf so, then I like you,’’ Shlomele answered, 
stroking her head-dress. 

“And I like you, too,” said Deborah, pulling at 
the fringe of his garment. | 

Husband and wife were again silent a while. Sud- 
denly Deborah remembered something. 

“Will you have an apple?” 

“Yes,” the boy nodded. 

Deborah took the apple out of the pocket of her 
apron and gave it to him. 

‘Where did you get it?” 

‘“Marusha gave it to me. An apple for you anda 
pear for me.’’ And the girl took the pear out of the 
other pocket. 

The two sat down on the bench to eat the fruit. 

‘“‘Here, taste my pear,”’ says the little wife. 

‘““Taste my apple,’”’ says the little husband. 


The following morning, when the first rays of the 
red sun, which lighted up half the heavens, had re- 
moved the shroud of night from the earth, Hillel 
the driver stopped his hooded van in front of the inn. 
From the inn they began to carry out pillows and covers 
and shawls, and big and little bags of food and kegs 
of brandy, provisions for the journey from Zlochov 
to Lublin, which would take two to three weeks. 
Chayim the Postman, or, as he was called, “the 
Guardian of Israel,’’ also got into the van. He was 
taken along as a defense against brigands. 

Chayim was a tall, powerful Jew who was able 
to ride a horse and, alone of all the Jews of the town, 


54 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


knew how to use gun and powder. He was dressed 
in his official uniform of a Jewish policeman, with 
one gun in front and another behind, and around his 
waist a big belt, from which hung down his powder 
horn. 

Chayim was a public personage. He was officially 
employed as court messenger and he was especially 
useful when there was need of sending a messenger 
from one settlement to another on an important 
mission, or when the officials had to hail before the 
court a defiant person who refused to come, in which 
case Chayim the Postman was sent to bring him by 
force. Chayim the Postman was charged with all 
the duties in the town which required the use of 
force, and since his person alone was not endowed 
with too much strength he provided himself with 
arms. 

Another passenger in the van was Reb Jonah 
Eibeschutz, the lay-preacher of the town, who preached 
a sermon every Sabbath afternoon, in which he pic- 
tured in vivid colors Hell and all its burning pits, 
as well as Heaven and all its circles. Reb Jonah was 
as well posted on Hell, as familiar with all its lime- 
kilns and boiling cauldrons, as if he were a resident 
there. He had collected all his sermons into a book, 
which he was taking to Lublin to lay before the 
Assembly of the Four Countries and get permission 
to publish it. At the same time, also, he expected 
to obtain an endorsement of his book from one of 
the celebrities, and in addition, at the fair, where so 
many wealthy merchants were assembled, to look 


TO THE YESHIVAH a 


around for a rich man who might wish to earn for 
himself a portion of the World-to-Come by assuming 
the expenses of publication. 

At length there came out of the inn Mendel and 
his son Shlomele. Old Marusha, who carried his 
little trunk, expressed the wish in Yiddish that his 
thirst for learning should be very great. His mother 
and little wife stood before the door of the inn. 

““Why don’t you say good-bye to your wife, 
Shlomele? A husband who goes away for such a 
long time should say farewell to his wife,’’ said his 
father. ! 

Shlomele, dressed in the long coat which trailed at 
his feet and a big yellow fur hat, approached Deborah 
who stood near her mother-in-law, and with averted 
eyes said: 

‘Good-bye, Deborah.” 

The girl was silent. 

“Say to your husband: ‘A pleasant journey to 
you, and may you be eager for learning,’’’ her mother- 
in-law coached her. 

“‘A pleasant journey, and may you be eager for 
learning,’’ the girl repeated. And for the first time 
since their marriage the two children were ashamed 
to look one another directly in the face. 

Shlomele was ready to get into the van, but at the 
last moment the mother was unable to restrain herself. 
She seized her only son and covered him with tears 
and kisses. 

““May God be your protector when I am not near 
you!’ And after her came the Cossack servant. 


56 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


Only the little wife looked down earnestly at the 
ground. 

‘“Vocheved,’’ Mendel reminded his wife, ‘‘God 
has privileged you to send your son to the Yeshivah, 
where there are great scholars and Geonim, and you 
are weeping.” 

“For God’s great kindness,’’ said the mother, 
wiping her tears with her apron. 

Shlomele brushed his mother’s kisses from his 
cheek with his sleeve and jumped into the van. 

“With the right foot first, on the right road, 
Where lurks no evil spirit 
But only the good, 
And nothing but peace...”’ 
was the wish his mother spoke after him. 





Slowly the wagon passed through the drowsy 
little town, and came out among the fields of the big 
estates of the nobles. The sheaves of grain in the 
fields were golden in the sunlight. The grass was 
wet with the dew of the morning, and in the fresh 
and transparent air little clouds of smoke mounted 
from the straw-thatched roofs of the peasants and 
imparted a homelike aspect to the entire landscape. 
But the farther they travelled and the higher the 
hot sun rose as the day advanced, the more scarce 
became the cultivated fields, and the earth spread 
out in every direction in endless expanse. 

And Mendel’s van seemed lost in an uncharted 
sea of tall, fragrant weeds studded with many-colored 
flowers. As far as eye could reach nothing could be 


TO THE YESHIVAH BY) 


seen but God’s green world. Here and there a clump 
of young white willows stood out on a little hill, 
weaving a delicate tracery with their long tender 
branches, and behind the tracery stray white cloud- 
lets were visible, moving like flocks of sheep across 
the limitless sky. 

Here and there the little trees threw their shadows 
over the field, and the shadowed green portion stood 
out in strong contrast on the sun-smitten field. 
And elsewhere a clump of wild, red poppy heads 
blazed in the light of the sun. Thus did the steppe 
flaunt the light and colors of its many-hued flowers 
and weeds for no one but itself alone and God, its 
Creator. 

The narrow path which led uphill from the city 
and then into the valley was lost in the sea of green. 
They were unable to make out whither the road led. 
Then Hillel the driver gave his horses free rein to 
enable them to scent out the river Uman. The horses 
raised their heads several times, distended their 
moist nostrils and sniffed the air loudly. Then their 
necks sank deeper into their collars and with greater 
speed they moved forward into the heart of the steppe. 


CHAPTER SEVEN 
IN THE HEART OF THE STEPPE 


A mysterious fear seized upon the hearts of our 
travellers when the vehicle entered into the depths 
of the steppe. They cast uneasy glances around them, 
looking to see if a green Tatar cap would not suddenly 
make its appearance among the grass or if the white 
sheepskin cap of a Cossack would not peep out from 
the bushes. The steppe, as far as Uman, was not 
safe. Swimming across the Dnieper, Zaporozhian 
Cossacks would come from the other side, and lie 
in wait for Jewish merchants. Even the Tatars in 
their light boats would come down the Dniester from 
their country and hide in the grass of the steppe, 
lying in wait for the Jewish travellers whom they 
would capture and take to the slave markets of 
Constantinople or Smyrna, where they knew that 
the Turkish Jews would pay large ransoms for them. 
Mendel’s heart was filled with apprehension, and 
he looked hopefully and trustingly at his defender, 
Chayim the Postman, who was sitting on the box 
of the wagon. But the “Guardian of Israel” sat 
curled up in the box, his nose buried in the forest 
of hair of his mustaches, his eyes closed under their 
beetling black brows, sleeping the sleep of the just. 

But Mendel and his fellow-travellers were afraid 
of the steppe without reason. Nothing was so peace- 


IN THE HEART OF THE STEPPE 59 


ful as the steppe, nothing so peaceful as the play of 
colors of its millions of weeds and flowers, nothing so 
peaceful as the song of a million notes which it sang 
in the glorious sunlight. The numerous varieties 
of bees and other insects buzzed and swarmed among 
the weeds, looking like a transparent, multi-colored 
cloud of dust above the flowers. Living, winged 
blossoms rose into the air,—the many-colored butter- 
flies, which emerged from the flowers and glowed with 
the same tints and hues. The day shone full upon the 
steppe, and the sun warmed every blade of grass. 
The steppe was redolent with fragrance. The sweet 
smell of honey was distilled from the white flowers 
and imbued every creature with sweet, drowsy de- 
sireand longing. At times the tramping of the horses’ 
feet awakened a sleeping flock of birds. From the 
midst of the tall grasses swarms of blackbirds rose 
up into the air and circled above the vehicle, waking 
every sleeping creature in the weeds with their cries 
and with the whirring of their wings. Then was the 
whole steppe awake. It became alive with the language 
of winged and creeping things, of things that 
blossomed and sprouted. From every bush and tuft 
of flowers variegated clouds of butterflies rose up, 
awakened by the cries of the birds. And now 
there was no telling which were the flowers and 
which the insects. 

Sometimes the wagon came upon a hidden brook. 
They were surprised to see a little spring emerge 
suddenly from among the weeds and over it a soli- 
tary bird of prey in wait for some fish or insect which 


60 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


circled about on the rippled surface. The lonely 
bird of prey was frightened by the hoofs of the horses 
and rose up into the clouds, waking the steppe with 
his screams of alarm. He was answered by invisible 
creatures who were hidden somewhere in the depths 
of the weeds, and they seemed to be relaying the bad 
tidings one to another: Run, run! Man has come 
to conquer the steppe! 

But our travellers perceived nothing of all this. 
They were occupied each with his own affairs. 
Hillel the driver became a bit drowsy after having 
eaten too well of the stuffed tripe which Yocheved 
had given him for the journey and which had remained 
over from the feast held in honor of the departing 
Sabbath. The scent of honey penetrated the very 
marrow. The mouth became dry and the odors of 
the steppe rose to the head and made one drowsy. 
And so, after the horses were no longer in need of 
their guide, Hillel fell asleep. Nevertheless the horses 
were aware of the waking nose of their master in- 
stead of his sleeping eye. 

His snoring infected the ‘Guardian of Israel’’, 
Chayim the Postman. Just as Hillel was a great 
glutton, so was Chayim a hard drinker. ‘‘He was 
in no wise able to display his strength, of which the 
community stood in such great need, except he did 
first enkindle his anger by means of brandy.”’ (This 
is officially recorded concerning him in the Chronicle 
of Zlochov.) Being a prudent Jew with a wife 
and several children, he could not otherwise ‘‘risk 
his life’? and take up the ‘“‘destroyer’’, his gun, un- 


IN THE HEART OF THE STEPPE 61 


less he had first taken several drinks. When sober, 
he was afraid of a gun, of a horse and of a dog like 
every other Jew, and when it was necessary to send 
him on a mission across the steppe to the next town, or 
to have him hail a refractory personage to the bar 
of justice, or to have him punish someone with 
flogging or chain someone in the little prison, he was 
unable to discharge these duties unless he first filled 
himself with drink. Before Mendel undertook the 
journey to Lublin across the steppe, he first gave 
him a good many draughts, and during the entire 
trip Chayim maintained his warlike spirit and heroic 
courage with the fiery stuff which inspired him with 
the daring of a Polish Lord. And now, also, sitting 
on the box, he flaunted his courage by keeping his 
gun on his shoulder for no particular reason at all, 
which inspired Mendel with a great fear lest the 
“destroyer’’ go off of itself. But when Chayim 
perceived that there was as yet no need of his courage, 
since no brigands were to be seen, and that the war- 
like mood which the spirits had aroused was going 
to waste, he gave vent to his ferocity in his snoring. 
The sounds issuing from his broad nostrils, which 
gaped from his hairy face like two chimneys out 
of a straw roof, were like the rattling of a cracked 
hunting-horn. 

The driver and the guard continued to sway on 
the box of the wagon until they fell into one another’s 
arms in an affectionate embrace. Their snoring 
united into a discord which scared the hares out 
of their hiding places. 


62 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 

Mendel and Reb Jonah, however, talked enough 
to make up for those who slept. After conquering 
his fear of the Cossacks, Mendel began to look around 
him and observe God’s world, and seeing how im- 
mense and devoid of human beings it was, he conceived 
the desire of planting Jewish settlements over the 
entire steppe. What numbers of Jewish cities and 
towns could be~ built on the steppe, and 
synagogues, schools, ritual-baths and Yeshivahs! 
And trade also: every month a different fair in a 
different city. The fields are covered with crops, and 
busy roads lead from one city to the other, and Jews 
traverse the roads with loads of merchandise and 
engage in trade. And the Torah is diffused over 
all of Ukraine, for where there is bread there also 
is Torah. And Mendel, himself, is a great merchant, 
and a parnas over an entire settlement...He com- 
municated his thoughts to Reb Jonah. | 

“Very big is God’s world, Reb Jonah,” said Mendel 
with a sigh. ‘“‘And the soil over which we are pass- 
ing is good soil, Reb Jonah, black soil. You can 
tell it by the weeds. Where we are passing, Reb 
Jonah, there will some day be Jewish settlements. 
Jewish towns will lie scattered over the whole land. 
Jews will trade, will carry merchandise from one 
city to another, will build Yeshivahs, and the Torah 
will be spread broadcast.”’ 

For a minute Reb Jonah was silent, pondering on 
what Mendel had said. Then he replied: 

“The soil here is good soil, the land is broad, ote 
there is no one here to remember God’s Name, to 


IN THE HEART OF THE STEPPE 63 


pronounce a Benediction, to say prayers, therefore 
it is filled with demons and evil spirits. And do 
you think, parnas, that those are ordinary birds which 
follow our wagon, ordinary weeds or bees and insects? 
Those are all souls, lost and roaming in the forests 
and deserts, awaiting redemption. Seeing a wagon 
with Jews, they follow us, trying to catch a word of 
the Torah or a Benediction, so that they might 
through us obtain redemption and have peace... 
If it will please God that Jews come and settle here, 
build synagogues and schools, pray and praise the 
Lord, they will drive away the evil spirits. It will 
become a clean place and a human settlement.”’ 
“Do you think, Reb Jonah, that there will ever be 
a settlement here with Jewish towns and synagogues?”’ 
“Of course! How then? The place is specially 
intended for Jews. When the Gentiles had greatly 
oppressed the exiled Jews, and the Divine Presence 
saw that there was no limit and no end to the oppres- 
sion and that the handful of Jews might, God for- 
bid, go under, the Presence came before the Lord 
of the Universe to lay the grievance before Him, and 
said to Him as follows: ‘How long is this going to 
last? When You sent the dove out of the ark at the 
time of the flood, You gave it an olive branch so 
that it might have a support for its feet on the water, 
and yet it was unable to bear the water of the flood 
and returned to the ark; whereas my children You have 
sent out of the ark into a flood, and have provided 
nothing for a support where they may rest their 
feet in their exile.’ Thereupon God took a piece 


64 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


of Eretz Yisroel, which he had hidden away in the 
heavens at the time when the Temple was destroyed, 
and sent it down upon the earth and said: ‘Be My 
resting place for My children in their exile.’ That is 
why it is called Poland (Polen), from the Hebrew poh 
din, which means: ‘Here shalt thou lodge’ in the exile. 
‘That is why Satan has no power over us here, and 
the Torah is spread broadcast over the whole country. 
There are synagogues and schools and Yeshivahs, 
God be thanked.”’ 


‘‘And what will happen in the great future when 
the Messiah will come? What are we going to do 
with the synagogues and the settlements which we 
shall have built up in Poland?’’ asked Mendel as 
he suddenly thought of Zlochov. 


‘‘How can you ask? In the great future, when 
the Messiah will come, God will certainly transport 
Poland with all its settlements, synagogues and 
Yeshivahs to Eretz Yisroel. How else could it be?” 


Mendel was completely satisfied, not only with 
regard to his own Zlochov, but the whole of Poland, 
whose destiny, after the coming of the Messiah, he 
could never get clear in his mind. 


And after Mendel had satisfied the hunger of his 
spirit, his bodily hunger began to assert itself. 
Hillel the driver with his wistful glances helped to 
remind him of it, and the “Guardian of Israel’’ 
scratched his head, his beard and his ear-locks all 
the time that the lay-preacher was speaking. The 
air of the steppe, moreover, stimulated the appetite. 


IN THE HEART OF THE STEPPE 65 


And soon they found a brook, where they stopped 
and washed their hands. 

Yocheved’s large, dried cakes of cheese, black radishes 
and strong spirits strengthened the body as did the 
words of Reb Jonah the soul. And when body and 
soul were satisfied, they all surrendered to the power 
of sleep and left it to the horses to find their own way 
to Uman. And the horses scented the forest of 
Uman from the steppe, and when the sun began to 
set and united sky and steppe in one fiery red flame, the 
forest of Uman appeared like a black band on the 
horizon, and, together with the quiet evening, they 
passed through the gate of Uman. 


CHAPTER EIGHT 
THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 


Several days later, Mendel’s wagon stopped be- 
fore the inn of Boruch Shenker on the Jewish street 
of Nemirov. Hillel found the entrance to the inn 
blocked with covered vans and vehicles of all sorts. 

‘“Ho there! Make room for the parnas of Zlochov! 
Move up there, you scab-head, the plagues of Egypt 
on your head! Make room, make room, make room, 
the parnas of Zlochov is coming! Did you hear?” 
the driver shouted. 

“Don’t shout so, servant of King Rags! The 
plagues of Egypt and the curses of anathema in ad- 
dition be laid out on your head. Reb Zechariah 
Sobilenky, the parnas of Chihirin,—it is his van that 
is standing here. Show respect!’’ they cried from 
the other van. 

On hearing whose van it was, Mendel ordered the 
driver to stop, alighted from his van and approached 
the other. 

“Is Reb Zechariah here?’’ 

“Yes. He came with his brother Reb Jacob, 
and they are going to Lublin to the fair. They 
have stopped at the house of the head of the Yeshivah, 
Reb Yechiel Michel, and ordered us to stand here 
with the van over night.” 

Reb Zechariah, the parnas of Chihirin, rode with 


THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 67 


two braces of horses like the great lords, and his van 
was very big and crammed with pillows and covers. 
It blocked the whole entrance. Mendel ordered his 
driver to pull up to one side, and take the horses 
to the stable and feed them well. He then went 
into the hotel, and the driver and guard soon fol- 
lowed him with his parcels and pillows. Mendel 
put on his new coat, dressed his son Shlomele in his 
best clothes and went down to present himself to the 
head of the Yeshivah, Reb Yechiel Michel the rabbi 
of Nemirov. 

In the audience room of Reb Yechiel Michel he 
found the parnasim of Uman and Karsoon, the two 
brothers, Reb Zechariah and Reb Jacob Sobilenky 
of Chihirin, as well as the parnasim and prominent 
residents of the city of Nemirov, who came to greet 
the out-of-town parnasim. Reb Yechiel Michel was 
not there. He was still in the yeshivah, where he 
was expounding the portion of the Talmud _ before 
the students. And the attendants in the meantime 
placed before the parnasim, on behalf of the rabbi’s 
mother, honey cakes and red brandy. 

Reb Zechariah Sobilenky, the parnas of Chihirin, 
sat with an air of importance on the wooden bench. 
The Sobilenkys looked upon themselves as very 
important personages, and this was especially true 
of Reb Zechariah, who was held in high regard by 
the magnate Konitz-Polski, the lord of Chihirin, 
who was also lord of Zlochov, so that Mendel, too, 
was under his jurisdiction. Mendel had great res- 
pect for Zechariah as an older parnas. Mendel knew 


68 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


that he would not find it easy to be accepted among 
the parnasim, and he was a little afraid. He looked 
with deference at Reb Zechariah who sat with his 
broad and long yellow beard spread out on his chest, 
his eyes hidden under his beetling yellow brows, and 
his sun-tanned face covered with freckles which 
looked like islands in a large yellow sea. Reb Zecha- 
riah paid no attention to him. He did not even 
notice the new parnas of Zlochov. 

‘“Peace unto you, parnas of Zlochov’’, was the 
greeting which Mendel received from Reb Sholom 
Jacob, the chief parnas of Nemirov. 

“Unto you peace,’’ was Mendel’s answer. 

“What news from Zlochov? It is said that Zlochov 
is growing into a populous city in Israel. It will 
soon be as large as Chihirin,”’ said the parnas of 
Nemirov with the intention of piquing the great 
Zechariah. 

“With the help of God, our settlement keeps on 
growing. ”’ 

Zechariah lifted his thick yellow eyebrows and looked 
around. He understood the innuendo which Sholom 
Jacob the parnas of Nemirov intended for him in 
comparing the village of Zlochov to the community 
of Chihirin, which was a large and populous settlement. 
But it was not easy to ruffle the equanimity of Reb 
Zechariah. He lifted his eyebrows only once, and 
lowered them again. 

Between the magnate of Chihirin, Lord Konitz- 
Polski, and the magnate of Nemirov, Prince Vish- 
newetzki, there was continuous rivalry for the su- 


THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 69 


zerainty of Ukrainia. Lord Konitz-Polski had 
possession of the entire steppe which bordered on the 
“Yellow River’’ as far as the Seich. Vishnewetzki, 
however, bore the title of Prince of ‘‘Russ’”’. This 
rivalry was not without its effect on the Jews of the 
two magnates, but it affected especially the parnasim 
of the two cities, who were the intermediaries for 
the Jews with their respective lords. The parnasim 
were so deeply involved in the rivalry of their masters 
that it virtually became their own. They vaunted 
the wealth and possessions of their respective lords, 
and whenever the two parnasim met, the contest 
flared up. 

“What, after all, does Chihirin amount to? It 
is a large community of Cossack peasants. With the 
help of God Zlochov will surpass it.’? Reb Sholom 
Jacob gave Zechariah another dig. 

But this time Zechariah could not brook it. He, 
who is held in such high esteem by his lord who 
consults him in all his affairs, to be compared with 
this Mendel of Zlochov! He lifted his eyebrows again 
and turned to Mendel: 

“Are you the Mendel of Zlochov who got per- 
mission to build a synagogue? My Lord told me 
about it. Sholom Aleichem,’’ and Zechariah extended 
his hand from a distance without rising from his 
place of honor on the wooden bench. ‘And who is 
the young man?’ Zechariah asked, pointing to 
Shlomele. 

“This is my son, married, with God’s help, and 
going to Lublin to the Yeshivah.”’ 


70 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


“To Lublin? Are there not enough yeshivahs 
here in Podolya, in Kremenetz, in Lvov? And right 
here in our own section there is Reb Yechiel Michel’s. 
What? Has this young man of yours become so 
great a scholar in Zlochov that you have not been 
able to find a yeshivah for him in the whole of 
Podolya, but you must take him all the way to Lub- 
lin?”’ 

“The Rabbi, his father-in-law, has given him 
letters to the great Reb Naphtali Katz, the rabbi of 
Lublin. The boy has a good head,’’ Mendel explained. 
‘“‘And, at the same time, we want him to learn secular 
subjects also, to be able to figure well and to talk 
with the officials, because Zlochov is growing, with 
God’s help, and we shall need a Jewish representative 
who is able to speak Polish.”’ 

These words annoyed Zechariah even more. He 
replied with heat: 

“He could learn Polish from the peasants in 
Zlochov.”’ 

Mendel remained silent out of respect for an old 
parnas. But that was too much for Reb Sholom 
Jacob. 

“What! Does the parnas of Chihirin think that 
he alone obtained permission from the Assembly 
to be a Jewish representative? You are doing well, 
Reb Mendel, in sending your young man to Lublin,” 
Reb Sholom Jacob reassured Mendel. ‘‘We need 
to have in our parts honest parnasim, such as work 
in communal affairs with sincerity of heart, not like 
certain ones who remove the pearls from the Ark- 


THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 71 


curtains and stud them into honey cakes as gifts for 
magnates in order to find favor in their eyes.”’ 

‘““My brother did not take the pearls for himself, 
God forbid!’ Reb Jacob Sobilenky defended his 
brother. ‘The parnas of Chihirin took the pearls 
from Jewish matrons of that city and made of them 
a precious gift for the Magnate Konitz-Polski, may 
his glory be exalted, by whose grace we all live in 
peace and security, on the occasion of his marriage 
with the rich Countess Zamoyski.”’ 

“Naturally, when a pauper married a Zamoyski 
he must have recourse to the Jews of his cities for 
his wedding expenses. Who is he anyway? A 
Vishnewetzki? The Vishnewetzkis don’t need to 
depend on Jewish pearls when they get married.” 

An offense against himself Reb Zechariah was able 
to ignore, but the insult against his lord he could not 
tolerate. 

“Parnas of Nemirov, you are playing with fire. 
You are insulting my noble lord.” 

“And if so, what of it? I am not afraid of your 
lord. Will you have me put into prison perhaps as 
you did Captain Chmelnitzki? We are living here, 
God be praised, under Prince Vishnewetzki who is 
a merciful ruler, so I have no fear whatever of your 
master, parnas of Chihirin.” 

Who knows how this quarrel would have ended if 
the attendant had not suddenly opened the door and 
announced: ‘‘Reb Yechiel Michel is on his way!” 

All rose from their places and Reb Yechiel Michel 
entered. The rabbi was still a young man, but he 


72 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


was already famed throughout Podolya and Volhynia 
as the Gaon of Ukrainia. He enjoyed the respect 
of allmen. The rabbi first stepped into another room 
and conducted thence his old mother, whom he seated 
in the place of honor in an armchair near the table. 
He then sat down on a smaller chair near her and in- 
troduced to her the parnasim and notables, and 
all the time waited on his mother with the greatest 
deference and respect. 


The rabbi questioned the parnasim on conditions 
in their respective regions, how the settlements were 
growing, and how matters stood with the study of 
the Torah. On hearing that Mendel was taking his 
son to the Yeshivah in Lublin he rejoiced greatly 
that Zlochov was already privileged to send a student 
to that great yeshivah. He put some questions 
to Shlomele on his studies, which Shlomele answered 
promptly to the great satisfaction of the rabbi, who 
ordered the attendant to give him some honey cakes; 
and Mendel wiped from his eyes the tears of joy. 


“Your reverend teacher writes me to send him some 
young men from my yeshivah to Zlochov to instruct 
the children. The people of the town will give them 
food and lodgings. Praised be the Lord of the Uni- 
verse, the study of the Torah increases wherever 
Jews live, even in the wild steppe,’’ he said, turning 
to his mother. 


The old woman inclined her high festive headdress 
of white lace which she had put on in honor of the 
parnasim, and she whispered to her son: 


THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 73 


““My son, offer the parnasim some brandy and cakes, 
to do them honor.” 

The rabbi rose to carry out his mother’s command, 
and poured some brandy for the parnasim. 

“And on what terms do you live with your 
neighbors? Is there peace between you? Your life is 
so exposed, living as you do in the open plain.”’ 

“To the best of our ability we strive to live in 
peace. The Polish magnates are absent throughout 
the year, and our only neighbors are the Russians; 
and since they are neighbors, we strive to live in 
peace with them. Very often they do not pay the 
church tax which the Polish priests have imposed upon 
them. They look upon it as an insult to their dignity, 
and so we do not exact it from them, but, instead, we 
collect the tax from among ourselves and pay it for 
them. But the Polish priests, becoming aware of 
this, took us severely to task. They compel us to exact 
the tax, and therein lies a great danger for us. We 
are afraid lest the Russians, God forbid, do ussome evil. 
And that is what I have come to say to the rabbi of 
Nemirov. It would be very advisable that the 
parnasim of Ukrainia, together with the rabbis, 
should obtain from the Council in Lublin assurance 
that the Great Assembly will take up the matter 
and have the church tax on the Russians abolished, 
or else that Jews should not be forced to collect it, 
for that is liable to bring, God forbid, a great mis- 
fortune upon us. We live right near the steppe, and 
we hear it said that the Russians will one day avenge 
themselves upon us.”’ 


74 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


The rabbi sighed and remained silent. 

“T too, wish to speak on this matter,’’ said Reb 
Sholom Jacob, the parnas of Nemirov. ‘The parnas 
of Chihirin, Reb Zechariah Sobilenky, is sitting here. 
The parnas of Zlochov, Reb Mendel, is afraid to 
speak out because he, together with the parnas of 
Chihirin, is subject to Konitz-Polski. But we here, 
God be praised, are under Prince Vishnewetzki, who 
is a merciful ruler to all. Weare not afraid. And I 
desire to say here in the presence of the rabbi of 
Nemirov that it has reached our ears that the 
parnas of Chihirin, Reb Zechariah, oppresses very 
grievously the Jews and also the Russians. He im- 
poses upon them very heavy taxes for gifts for his 
master. He has lodged information before his lord 
against one of their captains by the name of Chmel- 
nitzki, saying that the aforesaid captain is planning 
to rebel, with the result that the captain has been 
thrown into prison. And because of that, the Russians 
are greatly incensed against the Jews, and a mis- 
fortune may come of it for the Jewish community 
at large.” 

During all the time that Reb Sholom Jacob brought 
the accusation against him, Reb Zechariah sat before 
the rabbi, proud and silent. With two of his fingers 
he combed his long, yellow beard, and kept lifting 
his thick yellow eyebrows, which were like two open 
fans on the ridge of his forehead above his eyes. 
From time to time he cast a glance from beneath them 
upon his opponent, and maintained his silence. 

“Rabbi of Nemirov,”’ Reb Zechariah began, ‘I 


THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 75 


am not, God forbid, taking the taxes for myself. We 
Jews live only by the grace of the magnates, who 
protect us in their mercy from all evils, and grant us 
the privilege of building synagogues and establishing 
settlements, and we live with our families in peace and 
tranquillity as in no other land. Wherefore, we must 
be loyal to the Polish lords who rule over us with 
great mercy, and to the great and mighty King 
Vladislav, may his glory be exalted, who has renewed 
the privileges which the former Polish kings had 
granted us, and added new ones. We must be sub- 
missive and serve them faithfully, because, but for 
them, we might be like the Russian peasants, may 
God shield us! And when they order us to collect 
taxes from the Cossack peasants for the churches, we 
must carry out their decrees, because the peasants 
belong to the Polish lords for all time. And who is 
this Chmelnitzki about whom the parnas of Nemirov 
has raised such an outcry? He comes into my inn, 
and I hear him whisper with the peasants about 
writing a letter to the Khan of the Tatars and ask 
him to come and help the peasants free themselves 
from the Polish lords. He thinks I hear nothing, and 
I sit behind the table and pretend not to hear, but 
with a piece of chalk I make note of all the things 
that he says. Of course, it is my duty to deliver 
the captain into the hands of the authorities. My 
lord, may his glory be exalted, gave me permission, in 
case I hear such seditious talk from the Captain 
Chmelnitzki, to have him flogged before the door of 
my inn.” 


76 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


Reb Yechiel Michel remained absorbed in deep 
thought, then he turned to his mother and, bowing 
before her, spoke as follows: 

“With my mother’s permission, I will answer 
the parnas of Chihirin as follows: It is true that 
we live by the grace of the Polish lords and King 
Vladislav, may his glory be exalted, who has renewed 
the privileges of the Polish kings, peace unto them. 
But we do not live by their power but by the power 
of the Lord of the Universe and of the Holy Torah. 
And it is not they who are shielding us, but the Lord 
of the Universe in His great mercy. Our holy books 
enjoin us to live in peace with our neighbors and, above 
all, with such neighbors as are tormented and perse- 
cuted by their oppressors and whose faith is being 
humiliated. Their faith is not idol-worship. They 
believe in the only living God, and it is an act of piety 
to assist them so that they may be able to serve God 
according to their ways. We Jews should feel and 
realize what it means to be persecuted for one’s 
faith. Therefore, I am much pleased with the good 
advice of the parnas of Zlochov that the Great As- 
sembly shall seek to do something in the matter, that 
the representatives shall secure the abolition of the 
church tax, and, if that cannot be obtained, then 
we Jews shall not haveanything todowithit. Parnas 
of Zlochov, I will, please God, give you a letter on 
this subject to take to the rabbi of Lublin.” 

At this point the attendant was heard knocking on 
the panels of the door witha wooden hammer. There- 
upon the rabbi said: 


Sa 


THE CONFERENCE OF PARNASIM 77 


“My friends, it is time for afternoon prayers,’ 
and, turning to his mother, he said, ‘‘With your 
permission, mother, we will rise.”’ 

“Yechiel Michel, after prayers you will invite the 
parnasim to have supper with us,’’ his mother said, 
and rose from her place. And the son, with great 
reverence, conducted her to the threshhold of the 
next room. 


CHAPTER NINE 
THE PREACHER OF POLNO 


A holy peace and purity lay upon the hills around 
the city of Nemirov, as the Jewish vans laden with 
bedding and passengers rolled joyously over the yellow 
sandy road. The night damp still lay heavy on 
the fields and on the road which led to the River 
Bug, but by the time they reached the other bank, 
the clear blue sky was already suffused with the light 
of the bright, newly-risen sun, which drank the dew 
from the grass and from the leaves of the tall sassa- 
fras trees that flanked the road. The golden yellow 
fields had already been reaped and harvested, and 
here and there a drab-gray linen peasant shirt was 
to be seen, or the flaming colors of a kerchief on the 
head of a peasant woman at work in the early morning. 
Fat sheep, overgrown with black wool, rolled like 
black balls on the broad fields and grazed at the hard 
stubble of the grain. They stopped munching and 
looked naively after the passing vans with their 
blank-staring eyes and called after them their quaver- 
ing, child-like “‘ba-aa’”’. From time to time the 
travellers came upon a sorrowful beggar sitting 
alone on a stone by the roadside twanging on a small 
home-made “‘lyre’’ and mumbling some song. Soon 
the cloud of dust which the vans left behind them 
covered the beggar, but his song affected the Jewish . 


THE PREACHER OF POLNO 79 


travellers, and over God’s joyous world there rang 
out melodies from the Jewish Liturgy: 

“Come my beloved, come my beloved, 

Come my beloved, to meet the Bride, 

To meet the Sabbath Bride.’’ 





Our travellers no longer rodealone. Aswas natural, 
the first in the procession was the big van of Reb 
Zechariah with its two braces of horses, and it raised 
high clouds of dust in front and behind. Then came 
the other vans. Men of learning from the different 
towns sat in the vans. Some were going to the As- 
sembly to obtain answers to questions of ritual, others 
to get permission to publish books of which they were 
the authors. Many of the scholars and men of 
learning assembled in one van. They sat at ease 
amid the pillows and sheets and engaged in scholarly 
disputation. One would clutch the beard of another 
or grasp the lapels of his coat, forcing him to listen 
to his involved interpretation, whereupon his oppo- 
nent would stubbornly close his eyes and stick to 
the negative, refusing to yield one iota. And the 
loud disputes over the Torah re-echoed from the 
vans, waking the sleeping hares of the fields, who ran 
panic-stricken from the noise of the disputants. 


Through the long winters the Jews of Podolya 
manufacture out of leather the uppers for boots as 
well as the soles, and take them to the annual fair 
in Lublin. The makers of sheepskin coats bring 
wagon-loads of these garments. The makers of 


80 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


fur caps bring their wares, the potters bring their 
vessels. | Some of the vehicles are filled with house- 
hold utensils, others with prayer-shawls, four-fringed 
garments, and the fringes themselves. The products 
of the entire year are taken to the autumn fair, when 
the noble proprietors, having gathered peasants’ 
crops into their barns, go to the fair to buy supplies 
for the winter. The Jewish merchants run from one 
van to another, strike bargains, exchange money, buy 
up bales of flax, sacks of wool, calf-skins and spirits 
as on a stock exchange. And marriage brokers speed 
from one van to another and arrange matches and 
betrothals of brides and bridegrooms who have never 
seen each other, and the parents shake hands and 
stop in the inns to drink each other’s health. And 
the drivers attempt to get ahead of each other, and 
snatches of prayers from the holiday and Sabbath 
services are lost amid the cracking of whips and the 
clouds of dust. 

Prayer services were conducted in the fields near 
the brooks, among the tall trees. For the first 
time those bare fields heard the sanctifications, and 
the birds flocked to pick up the crumbs which remained 
after the meals. 

For the night they stopped in Bar. There was a 
large Jewish community in that city, it was a gather- 
ing station for travellers from Vinitza, from Staro- 
grad, from Karsoon and other points. There they 
found more Jews, more scholars and merchants. 
And into Constantinov there already entered a 
caravan of vehicles laden with colored pillows and 


THE PREACHER OF POLNO 81 


sheets in the midst of which sat Jews at great ease. 
On the way all the synagogue melodies had been 
sung, the whole Torah had been disputed over, and 
half the country bought and sold. The settlements 
were now more numerous, the land populated, the 
towns with Jews and the villages with peasants. 
On every road they come upon a Jewish innkeeper 
where a halt is made to water the horses and to pro- 
nounce a benediction. In front of the inns stand the 
Jewish innkeepers in their colored trousers and broad 
four-fringed garments, and invite the scholars into 
their homes. They are eager for the privilege of 
having a minyan for afternoon prayers beneath their 
roof, and to see the men of learning drink each other’s 
health. 

And the innkeeper’s wife hauls from the cellar 
great pots of buttermilk and cream and fried onions. 
At the same time, the innkeeper’s children are ex- 
amined, and the housewife is solemnly warned to be 
careful to observe all the religious rites. And marriage 
brokers make inquiries concerning brides and dowries, 
and they all drink out of the same flask, eat together, 
and take seats on each other’s pillows as if the entire 
Jewish people had become one big family. 

But soon they reached the big forest of Vishnewetz. 
The vehicles keep closer to each other, and the guards 
take out their “‘destroyers’’, of which the people are 
afraid. Far out in the woods among the dry leaves 
there is a rustling sound, and the travellers hold their 
breath and ask each other: ‘“‘Did you hear that?’ 

And Jews tell each other stories of demons and 


82 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


spirits who dwell in the woods, and throw a great 
dread upon the young lads who are travelling to the 
yeshivahs. And the forest becomes more and more 
dense and dark and mysterious. The ancient trees 
murmur as though surprised and afraid of the Jewish 
vans which have entered their midst and awakened 
them from their mysterious, age-long slumber. The 
sleeping beasts of the forest are frightened by the hoofs 
of the horses. In the distance can be heard their 
roaring and the sound of their heavy feet among 
the dry leaves. The Kabbalists among the travellers 
listen intently to the steps in the forest and whisper 
mysterious prayers. Fathers hang charms around 
the necks of their children and place prayer books 
in their hands. The Jews take hold of the sacred 
fringes of their garments to rout the evil spirits that 
hover around the vehicles. And the vans break 
through the virgin forest, filled with the odor of resin, 
which exudes from the trees, and with the damp odor 
of mushrooms. Someone is felling trees in the forest, 
someone is shouting and calling for help in the forest, 
and the Kabbalists stop their ears so as not to hear 
the evil spirits calling. The old Jews sing Psalms 
and the children fall asleep in the midst of their 
terror. 

They stopped in Polno for the Sabbath, anxious 
to hear Reb Simeon Ostropolier preach. For years 
this preacher had warned of impending calamities. 
He frightened his audience so with his sermons that the 
Assembly issued an injunction ordering him not to 
alarm the people. The sermons of the Ostropolier 


THE PREACHER OF POLNO 83 


were famed throughout the world. On the Sabbath 
afternoon Mendel took Shlomele with him and went 
to the synagogue where Reb Simeon preached. 
The synagogue already overflowed with Jews from 
the entire neighborhood. Whoever travelled to the 
annual fair stopped for the Sabbath in Polno in order 
to hear Reb Simeon. The walls of the synagogue 
were damp with the warm breath of the dense multi- 
tude. And on the elevation before the holy Ark 
stands Reb Simeon, dressed in a long white robe with 
a long prayer shawl draped about his tall emaciated 
body, his two black eyes flashing out of his pale face. 
It is full of fatigue, this pallid face of his, framed in 
his black beard; and, all atremble, he stretches his 
bony hands out of the sleeves of his white robe 
and emits a flood of fiery language, as he pictures 
to the vast throng the flames of Hell. 

He leads them through all the seven circles of 
Hell. He shows how the angels of destruction snatch 
the human being as soon as he closes his eyes in death 
and carry him off to waste deserts, hurl him into 
swamps among serpents and scorpions; and the next 
minute they lead the victim away and leave him to 
float in a sea of fire with other unfortunates. And 
now he pictures before the frightened multitude 
the boiling cauldrons which are placed over the fires 
of Hell. Limbs of human beings float about in the 
seething cauldrons. And now he restores his victim 
to life so as to be able to torture him anew, to pull 
the hair out of his head with iron tongs, to rake his 
skin with iron combs and draw out his nails with red 


84 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


hot pincers. Then he brings his victim back into 
the world in the shape of a horse who toils all his 
life for one whom he had wronged in his former life, 
or he has his victim transformed into a wailing dog 
who prowls about in waste deserts unable to find a 
human settlement. A panic seizes upon the people. 
Hot beads of perspiration appear on their faces. From 
the women’s synagogue a stifled sobbing is heard. 

And the white-robed preacher continues to stand 
over the vast throng, his bony hands outstretched, 
uttering fearful threats, pouring the flames of Hell 
over the heads of the Jews. Ks finds no one blame- 
less enough to be immune from the pangs of Hell. 
He transforms them all into new shapes, wringing 
them back to earth in the form of cattle and other 
animals, which yearn for a final resting-place. 

Now, however, he begins to prophesy concerning 
a terrible day of reckoning which is about to come 
upon the Jews. He cites one Bible verse after an- 
other which points to the time, the time of the wars 
of Gog and Magog, which are about to break out. 
In vivid colors he pictures a great war, a 
merciless enemy falling upon the land like a swarm 
of locusts and with fire and sword destroying every- 
thing in his path. There is nothing that is able to 
restrain him, no prayer, no supplication, no tears. 
He moves like a conflagration from city to city, 
from province to province, and consumes everything 
with his fiery tongue, even as the ox doth consume 
the grass. No one knows what the preacher is re- 
ferring to. A dread fear, as when a dark cloud 


THE PREACHER OF POLNO 85 


suddenly covers the sky, falls upon the Jews. A 
shudder passes through them when he pictures God’s 
wrath. One thing alone can hold up the dreadful 
decree: ‘‘Penitence, Prayer and Good Deeds.” 
But now he shuts the Gate of Mercy, locks its iron 
doors, and stations in front of the Gate of Mercy 
fiery swords and fiery beasts to drive off the prayers 
of Jews which are knocking at the Gate. It is too 
late now, the awful decree has been signed, and he 
vouchsafes not a single ray of hope. There is nothing 
but darkness, darkness and darkness... 


CHAPTER TEN 
THE ANNUAL LUBLIN FAIR 


After a journey of two weeks Hillel, with the “‘Guar- 
dian of Israel’’ on the box, rode through the Cracow 
gate into the famous city of Lublin. The spires and 
towers of its churches and castles had beckoned to 
them from a distance. From far away, Mendel had 
pointed out to Shlomele the spire of the synagogue 
of the famous scholar Rama. The annual fair was 
already in full swing. With much difficulty the 
driver steered his way through the multitude of 
Pans’ coaches which stood on every hand. Hillel 
turned to a side road and came to the Jewish streets 
where the fair was at its height. Here lay heaps of 
fur coats, there hung rows of boots from wooden 
bars. There were stands heaped high with woolen 
cloth. Polish kerchiefs, vividly colored, blazed in 
the sun-light on the heads of the Jewish women 
standing at the booths and selling the wares: hues of 
golden yellow on a field of ivory. And a Babel of 
shouts and languages was borne on the air: German 
master craftsmen from Nuremberg were selling vessels 
of silver and brass, and even Persians came down with 
their Oriental fabrics of many colors: colors of amber 
and colors of tvory; hues of molten copper and trans- 
parent azure as of the sky; the deep blue of the night 
and the whiteness of snow; and shy colors as of the 


FHE ANNUAL LUBLIN FAIR 87 


foam, and the chaste hues of pearls beside the deep 
glow of red beads—all these were merged into one 
burning sea of fabrics, robes and carpets. 

The colors moved as at a ball of masqueraders. 
The heads of the generals and chamberlains, of the 
hussars and ensigns blazed with tufts of many- 
colored feathers. Here and there the flash of a 
precious stone flared down from the turban on a 
Tatar’s head nodding above the sea of heads and 
beckoning from afar. 

Mendel was frightened by the great multitudes, 
and so was Shlomele, and even the ‘‘Guardian of 
Israel’’, Chayim the Postman, was frightened. Only 
Hillel the driver was not afraid. Huddled in the box, 
he held the horses firmly, picking his way among the 
stands, the people and the wagons. He paid no at- 
tention to anything, refused to be concerned with 
anything. He was engrossed in the work of steering 
the horses, for the road was indeed a difficult one. 

No easy matter did Mendel find it to secure a 
lodging. Lublin was filled with Jews. From every 
corner of Poland Jews came to Lublin to sell or buy 
at the fair. From the farthest regions came rabbis 
and parnasim with ritual questions and law-suits 
for the ‘Assembly of the Four Countries’’, one 
kehillah suing another and bringing its claims before 
the rabbis. Each rabbi came with his disciples. 
Students of the kabbalah in long white coats came 
with the rabbi of Posen, Reb Sheftel Hurwitz, who 
was a great student of the kabbalah. Keen minds, 
great scholars, accompanied the rabbi of Lvov, 


88 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


later the author of the ‘‘Taz,’’ who was a member of 
the Assembly. There were foreign Jews; Jews from 
Germany in large velvet hats; Jews from Prague in 
broad, black, silken cloaks; Italian Jews, whom it was 
difficult to recognize as Jews, dressed as they were in 
short, colored cloaks, like the Italians, with swords at 
the side. Many of them came to trade or to study 
at the yeshivah. Famed far and wide were the 
yeshivahs of Poland, even as formerly the yeshivahs 
of Babylon, and from all over the world Jews sent 
their sons to study in the Polish yeshivahs. There 
came many young men from different lands and pro- 
vinces to obtain from this or the other great rabbi 
who might attend the Assembly, certificates of or- 
dination for the rabbinate. Authors came with their 
books, seeking endorsements from the rabbis, and still 
others sought permission to practice ritual slaughtering 
or some other communal function. 

And all these people wandered about in the little 
Synagogue street where the rabbi dwelt, where the 
great yeshivah was located and where the Assembly 
was in session. In that street the Jewish fair was in 
progress. On every hand were stands of Hebrew 
books. There the marriage brokers had their head- 
quarters, and to them came fathers who were anxious 
to secure learned scholars as sons-in-law and made 
their choice from among the students of the yeshivah 
according to the dowry which they were able to offer. 
There, also, various kabbalah specialists, followers 
of Baal Shem Tob, had their booths where they sold 
amulets against evil spirits and demons, and inscrip- 


THE ANNUAL LUBLIN FAIR 89 


tions to hang on the wall against Lilith. Pious women 
in booths of their own sold special books of prayers 
for women, charms for women in labor, deer’s-teeth, 
roots for sucklings, little waxen hands and feet, and 
remedies for the toothache and for exorcizing the 
evil eye. In other booths sat scribes writing bills-of- 
sale for merchants, notes and receipts for loans. 
Young men drew artistic designs in colors for betrothal 
contracts, marriage contracts and Megillahs. This 
was an exclusive monopoly held by the students of 
the yeshivah, the money going into a common fund 
owned by the students. Goldsmiths sold precious 
ritual vessels, hammered kiddush-cups, lime-boxes 
and spice-rods, also Chanukkah-lamps which made 
music of themselves. The principal traffic, however, 
was in books. The printers of Lublin, who were 
authorized to print books uncensored, were celebrated 
throughout the world, and Jews from all over the 
world came to Lublin to buy Jewish books. On 
long tables in the synagogues and book-stalls the 
volumes were on display, especially the famous Lublin 
edition of the Talmud. The vendors of prayer- 
shawls had their stands there, displaying their woolen 
prayer-shawls and immense fringes. The gold and 
silver neck-bands of the prayer-shawls flashed on the 
stands. Further on, in the little street near the en- 
trance to the bath-house, the Jewish physicians had 
their booths where they let bad blood, wrote pre- 
scriptions and extracted teeth. There, also, the 
female attendants of the ritual bath sold secret recipes 
to childless women for having children, as well as 


90 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


“indications”? for giving birth to male children and 
“indications”? for female children; also spices and 
herbs for winning the heart of a husband...And 
Jews from all over Poland who, all year round, lived 
like exiles in their inns, laid in stocks of Judaism to 
last them throughout the winter. And among the 
merchants went about the pious women who had 
taken upon themselves the sacred duty of supplying 
the students of the yeshivah with lodgings and other 
necessities. They carried large tin boxes sealed with 
the official seal of the yeshivah and cried: “‘ Lodgings 
for the young men! Shirts, boots for the students of 
the Torah!” 

After Mendel had given his son into the yeshivah, 
he presented himself before the Assembly to bring 
before them the matter of the church-tax which the 
Polish nobility forced the Jewish inn-keepers to collect 
from the Cossack peasants. With the letter which 
the rabbi of Nemirov had given him to the author of 
the Taz, he was admitted before the Assembly, which 
was in session in the big hall of the Lublin community 
house. The presiding officer was Reb Naphtali 
Katz of distinguished ancestry, a grandson of the 
rabbi of Lublin, himself of proud descent, and, on his 
mother’s side, a grandson of the Gaon of Prague. 
In the Assembly sat great rabbis from Posen, Lvov, 
and Cracow, and Jewish official representatives and 
parnasim like Reb Abraham, the parnas of the Lublin 
community, and Reb Moses Muntaltis, who was 
descended from the Spanish exiles and very highly 
regarded in the royal court. Thirty famous rabbis 


THE ANNUAL LUBLIN FAIR 91 


and parnasim sat around the table. Before them 
Mendel presented his petition that the official rep- 
resentatives obtain the abrogation of the decree 
compelling the Jewish inn-keepers to collect the Church 
tax from the Cossacks, as otherwise a terrible calamity 
might come upon the Jews. The Assembly listened 
to Mendel, and the rabbi of Lublin said the proposal 
was a wise one. But the Assembly had also invited 
Zechariah Sobilenky, because he was a parnas from 
the same region and an important representative. 

Reb Zechariah said there was danger that the 
proposal would provoke the wrath of the priests and 
the Jesuits. They will say that the Jews dissuade 
the peasants from becoming Catholics, and a great 
calamity may befall the Jews in consequence. And 
as soon as the Assembly heard mention of the word 
priests, a great dread fell upon all the famous rabbis 
and parnasim. Reb Sheftel Hurwitz, the rabbi of 
Posen, began to groan. He remembered the blood 
accusation of two years before in his district of 
Lenchitz and the martyrs which the priests had tor- 
tured to death. His pallid face took on a dark hue, 
his eyes withdrew underneath his forehead, and he 
sighed: 

“A time of trouble is drawing nigh for Jacob.”’ 

And the parnasim replied that from the secular 
government they could obtain everything, but they 
were afraid to do anything touching the priests and 
the Church, because a great public calamity might 
result. 

Thus they disposed of Mendel with a sigh and a 


92 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


groan and sent him away to seek help from the Al- 
mighty. And thereupon Mendel set out for home. 

And when he was already seated in his van together 
with Chayim the ‘‘Guardian of Israel’, and Hillel 
the driver, he saw among the booths and stalls 
of the little Synagogue street the devout little tailor, 
Shlomele’s first teacher, standing on the threshhold 
of a stall and crying for buyers. And he descended 
from his van and entered the stall in order to buy 
something, but he saw that the stall was empty, it 
had nothing but four blank walls, and he asked 
the little tailor: 

“What have you to sell here? Are you not here in 
an empty stall?”’ 

And the little tailor answered: 

“‘T sell: Penitence, Prayers and Good Deeds!” 








CHAPTER ONE 
“It Has Becun”’ 


For six years Shlomele attended the yeshivah 

of Lublin, preparing himself for the position which 
he was to occupy in life, the position of parnas of a 
Jewish community. He studied with the head of 
the yeshivah, the rabbi of Lublin, and, together with 
other young men, he had his lodging in the inn of 
Mistress Sarah Jaffe, who owned a large book printing 
establishment in the city. On Sabbaths and holidays 
he ate at her board where he learned good manners 
and customs, for she was a woman of high standing 
and, moreover, of princely generosity. 
_ From home his mother used to send him, with the 
merchants who travelled to the annual fair, cakes of 
dried cheese or a jar of honey, and his father a pair 
of new boots, a sheepskin coat for the winter and a 
letter with greeting from ‘‘your wife,’’ which began 
to awaken strange emotions in his heart and bring a 
flush to his cheeks. 

At the end of six years, when Shlomele had com- 
pleted the rabbinical course, and Mistress Deborah 
had grown to young womanhood, the parents of the 
couple met together and decided that, whereas it 
is not a good thing for a husband and wife to be 
separated, Shlomele should be brought home from 
the yeshivah. 


96 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


Mendel travelled to Lublin to attend the fair, and 
to take home his son. The father did not recognize 
him. During those years Shlomele had matured, 
looking like a young rabbi with fur hat and ear-locks, 
and his father began to stand a little in awe of him. 
Shlomele inquired after everybody, after his mother 
and even after the servant Marusha, but not after 
his wife. 

‘‘And why do you not inquire after your wife?’ 
his father smiled. 

Shlomele flushed crimson. 

‘“‘She has grown into a young woman, and beauti- 
ful, beshrew the evil eye, you will not recognize 
her. She is living with her parents.”’ 

“Why not with mother?” asked Shlomele. 

‘She is afraid of you, afraid that when you come 
home you will pull at her head-dress as you used to 
do when you were a child.”’ 

Shlomele was silent. Mendel was sorry for having 
embarrassed him. 

“Tt is the custom, prior to the holidays and before 
the husband comes home, for the wife to stay with 
her parents. When, with the help of God, you will 
come home, she will come to live with us.”’ 

Shlomele would have liked to change the subject, 
but his father said: 

‘‘Here is some money, and buy something to take 
home for your wife as a holiday gift.” 

Shlomo took the money from his father to buy 
something for his wife. He went out to the fair, and 
came upon a Jew standing and calling: 


“IT. HAS BEGUN” 97 


“Golden slippers from Warsaw, holiday gifts for 
virtuous wives!”’ 

Shlomo remembered the golden slippers which he 
had promised his wife before he left for the yeshivah. 

He paid the merchant for the slippers, and the Jew 
pronounced the following wish: 

“God grant that the righteous one who will wear 
these slippers may be privileged to wear them in 
holiness and purity.’’ 

He gazed upon the Jew. The latter seemed familiar 
to him, as though he had seen him somewhere before. 

Afterwards Shlomo remembered that the Jew was 
the little tailor, and the thing appeared to him strange. 





It was in the year 5408 (C. E. 1647), just before 
the festival of Purim. Across the white fields a 
peasant’s sleigh filled with passengers glided merrily. 
The shadows of the passengers, horses and sleigh 
crept across the field behind the equipage. The 
muddy road wound up hill and down valley in the 
broad white expanse. Here and there broad black 
fields already dotted the sea of white like islands. It 
was towards evening after a fine sunny day. The 
sky overhead was bright and blue as though 
washed and cleaned of all its winter clouds in honor 
of the coming Passover. Cloudlets of transparent 
azure bathed in the joyous light, and the red-gold 
sun shone behind the Breslaw forest sending his 
golden beams through the naked twigs of the trees. 
A flock of black crows flew after the travellers. Find- 
ing no place to rest, they hovered above the sleigh, 


98 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


descending now and then, and lightly touching the 
snow where they left imprints of their feet. A violet 
red color hovered in the air, compounded of the white- 
ness of the snow and the blue of the sky. 

The damp odor of decayed roots and of the primi- 
tive naked soil hung in the air. Occasionally the 
sleigh passed through a field of snow where the foot- 
prints of wolves could be seen, and every time it 
came upon these sharply-outlined foot-prints, a voice 
was heard from the sleigh: 

“Hillel, we are in the bare fields among wild beasts, 
and night is falling, Hillel.” ) 

“We'll arrive soon, master dear. You can see 
the church spire of Breslaw already.”’ 

“What good is the church to me, Hillel? We have 
to say afternoon prayers and it is getting late. And 
it is dangerous to stop in the field.”’ 

‘We'll arrive soon, master dear.” 

“We'll be late for the Eighteen Benedictions, Hillel.” 

“We'll not be late for the Eighteen Benedictions, 
God forbid. We'll get there even before afternoon 
prayers.” 

And Hillel began to urge his horses in all the different 
languages that he knew. Hespoke to them in Russian, 
“Get up, little brothers, get up!’’ He spoke to them 
in Yiddish: ‘‘ Dear little brothers, do hurry up a bit, 
the master has to say afternoon prayers.’’ But they 
understood best when Hillel began to sing a portion 
of the morning service. Hillel gave free rein to his 
voice across the bare fields. The horses fell into a 
trot upon the fresh, damp earth, the road receded 


; LIMHAS) BEGUN 99 


beneath their feet, and soon they entered the muddy 
streets of Breslaw. 


In the court-yard of Berachiah’s tavern in Breslaw 
a large number of vans and sleighs were assembled. 
The inn was filled with Jews from the entire region. 
Many were on the way from the fair and intended to 
use the ferry for crossing the river to Nemirov. But 
the ice had already loosened, and huge lumps of it 
were sweeping down the river. Many Jews, therefore, 
from all the neighboring settlements were gathered 
in Berachiah’s inn, waiting to cross the river. 

Mendel found old acquaintances: Reb Gedaliah 
of Chihirin, Reb Yechezkel of Kolnik and Jews from 
Nemirov; also Reb Yoneh the Preacher, Reb Mosheh 
of Nemirov and many other Jews. They were all 
in jolly mood, well-disposed, and Chaskel Boruch, the 
liquor dealer, slapped Berachiah on the shoulder and 
shouted: 

“Tell your wife to cook kliskes for supper!” 

‘And stuffed tripe,’’ added Yochonon Aaron, the 
fisherman of Nemirov. 

“With renderings of fat!’’ 

“And tgimmes, even as for the Sabbath.” 


But there was no need for all that. At the large 
oven stood the innkeeper’s wife, cooking the supper 
in a huge kettle over a lively fire. And the appetizing 
smell of the tripe and the stuffing and of the kliskes 
already pervaded the room. 

“What is the great occasion?’ asked Mendel. 

“Nothing, just so. ‘When the month of Adar 


100 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


arrives, it is a duty to rejoice.’ That’s what we are 
Jews for! Isn ’t it a plain argument a fortiori? Since 
even the Goyim, who worship wood and stone, are 
rejoicing, how much more should we Jews rejoice, 
whose Father is the Lord of the Universe!’ And 
Reb Chaskel of Kolsk, to emphasize his reasoning, 
poked his thumb into Mendel’s beard. 

‘And have you said afternoon prayers, already?” 

‘Beginning with noon, and with the special Praise 
Service.’’ 

“What is the grand occasion?’ asked Mendel, 
surprised. | 

‘“‘Simpleton, have you forgotten the year that we 
are in? We are in the year Zos, that is to say, 
Tach*, and it has already begun.”’ 

“What has begun?” 

“You have not heard? The wars of Gog and 
Magog, even as the holy Ari prophesied,’”” Reb Yoneh 
imparted to Mendel. 

“T come from Lublin and know of nothing.”’ 


“The wicked Chmelnitzki, the Cossack captain of 
Chihirin, has gathered thousands of Cossacks and is 
out near the Yellow River to fight the Poles.”’ 

‘““What’s the news from Zlochov?”’ asked Mendel 
in alarm. 

‘““Simpleton, it’s the beginning of the redemption, 
the wars of Gog and Magog, and he goes about 


* The year 5408, when these events are happening, is repre- 
sented by the Hebrew letter-combination reading Tach, equal 
numerically to 408. The numerical value of the letters of the 
Hebrew word Zos, meaning this, is also equal to 408. 


<<. —_— 7s 





“IT HAS BEGUN” 101 


inquiring after Zlochov! Parnas, ignoramus!’’ and 
Yoneh turned from him and went into the next room, 
where a large number of Jews in prayer-shawls were 
assembled. Some were praying, others singing, 
still others engaged in study. Their exulting voices 
could be heard in the other rooms. 

The frightened Mendel came in among the crowd 
and asked on every hand: ‘‘What’s the news from 
Zlochov?” 

“Don’t worry about Zlochov! They are near the 
‘Yellow River.’ The lords Pototzki and Kalinowski 
have assembled thousands of soldiers and gone out 
to give them battle.’”’ Reb Chaskel of Kolsk re- 
assured him. 

‘““God be praised,’’ Mendel breathed again. ‘His 
end will be as black as Pawlick’s a year ago. He 
will be beheaded in Warsaw,’’ Mendel reassured them. 
“But still, why all this rejoicing?’”’ Mendel inquired. 

“‘Simpleton, that is just why we rejoice. The holy 
Ari prophesied this very thing, and there is a hint in 
the Torah that this year the Messiah will come. It 
can be seen as clear as daylight: ‘Im tokum olat 
milchomoh be-Zos ant boteach, if war should rise up 
against me, I am confident of zos. Now, what does 
zos mean? Zos, mathematically, means 408. That 
is to say, that in the year 408 a war willrise up against 
me—and I am confident of it—there you have it on 
the surface!”” and Chaskel of Kolnik again poked 
his thumb into Mendel’s beard. ‘And you, simpleton, 
go about asking why Jews are rejoicing! Ho there, 
Berachiah, tell your wife to put another tripe with 


102 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


fat stuffing into the kettle and charge it to the parnas 
of Zlochov!’’ Chaskel of Kolnik shouted to the inn- 
keeper. 

‘“‘ And who is the lad?”’ Chaskel pointed to Shlomele. 

‘‘ A married young man, returning from the yeshivah 
of Lublin with a rabbinical diploma in his pocket. 
My son, beshrew the evil eye.” 

‘Your son with a rabbinical diploma in his pocket !- 
A piece of pancreas into the pot and charge it to the 
young benedict Reb Shlomo, son of Reb Mendel, 
with the rabbinical diploma in his pocket!’’ Chaskel 
again shouted. 

‘“‘And afternoon prayers, have you already said 
them? Where does one say afternoon prayers here?” 
Mendel inquired. 

‘Prayers? This room is dedicated to eating. 
Services are held in that one.’’ Chaskel showed 
Mendel the way. 

Mendel was still in time for the last kedushah of 
the afternoon prayers. 

After evening prayers Berachiah set the table. 
The room was already dark. From outdoors was 
heard the sound of the ice-blocks sweeping down 
the river. He lighted two pieces of kindling wood on 
the oven, and several candles burned in the Sabbath 
menorah. The drivers brought their torches of tarred 
wood from the wagons and lighted them. The 
tables and benches were all brought together, making 
one large board. The men washed their hands and 
seated themselves around the board. Berachiah’s 
wife brought the great bowl filled with stuffed tripe, 


hat 


“IT HAS BEGUN” 103 


pancreas and liver, which emitted a heavy cloud of 
vapor. And Berachiah placed on the table a keg 
of brandy with a drinking cup. First of all, they 
took a few drops to drink their mutual health. Then 
they pulled the tripes out of the bowl, tore off pieces 
of it’ with their hands and treated each other. In 
the interval between tripe and brandy, they gave 
the cantor of Uman the honor of singing a piece, 
and he sang Va-Yigdal. Moreover, there happened 
to be among them a Jew from Uman, a musician, 
who used to circulate among the fairs and who played 
the violin very beautifully,—and he entertained the 
gathering with his playing. Also, there was among 
them an ‘‘ancient’’, one of the Cossacks, who played 
on a harp which the Jews had presented to him, he 
being very old. He used often to go out among the 
Jews, at Jewish weddings and on other joyful occasions, 
and afford the Jews pleasure with his playing and 
singing. And now he sang a beautiful song about an 
old king whom his children had cheated out of his 
crown and then exiled from his kingdom. And in 
the intervals between singing and playing, they spoke 
about the Messiah, about the Redemption which was 
near and about the wars of Gog and Magog. And 
later, when the gathering became a little hilarious, 
the women also came into the room. And because 
of their great happiness that the Messiah was at hand, 
they allowed themselves a liberty, and the women 
went through a very pretty dance. The musicians, 
together with the “‘ancient’’, furnished the music, and 
the Jews clapped their hands to the measure. And 


104 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


by reason of their great happiness and joy, some of 
the Jews forgot themselves, and taking hold of one 
end of a towel or cloth, they handed the other end 
to the women and danced with them. 

And the old pious Jews sat and looked on and said 
nothing, for their happiness was very great, believing 
as they did that the Messiah was at hand. 

Thus did the Jews spend the night in jollifica- 
tion. Many songs were sung and many stories of 
miracle and marvel were told concerning the Messiah, 
and many hidden meanings, Bible verses and mathe- 
matical problems were expounded on the subject 
of the year when the Messiah was due. And the 
“‘ancient’’, the harpist, also reported that there was 
much talk among the Cossacks that great events 
would take place that year. He had been to Kiev, 
and there had heard say that in the church the priest 
had found a document on the pulpit, sent down by 
their God, Jesus of Nazareth, warning them to pre- 
pare for that year... .. 

In a corner near the wall sat three kabbalists, 
who shared neither in the feast nor in the general 
rejoicing. One was very stout, another was still 
a young man, the third was an old man. The stout 
one was fasting in order to make his body lighter. 
But he found this very hard, for his body possessed 
great vitality, and his soul often yielded to his big 
body. When the big pots with the tripe and lungs 
were brought in, he was unable to restrain himself, 
for his hunger became very strong in him. If he 
closed his eyes, his desire was stimulated through his 


“IT HAS BEGUN” 105 


nose and mouth, and he often opened his eyes and 
asked his neighbor: 

“What is it they are eating there, hey?’’ 

“Stuffed tripe,”’ his neighbor replied. 

“So!” he sighed bitterly, and in order to tor- 
ment himself he looked straight at the food. 

The old man had a gray beard, and the young one 
was very emaciated, nothing but skin and bone. 
They, too, were fasting and for a reason that no one 
knew. And the young man could not bear to see 
the rejoicing of the Jews. He jumped up and cried: 

“Why do you rejoice for no reason at all? In 
the story of Esther is the word Va-Tichtov, and the 
letter TAV is written large; and the letter CHES 
of the word Chur is also written large. Now, what 
does that mean? That means that the edict of 
Haman has been postponed until the year TACH.”’ 

The people were filled with alarm and they looked 
to see who had spoken those words. 

“Wicked one, you couldn’t bear to see Jews rejoice. 
How abundantly do Jews worship the Lord of the 
Universe in sorrow, and now that, for once, they wish 
to worship Him in joy, you will not permit it!’ 
the old man scolded the young one. ‘Rejoice, Jews, 
rejoice. It is written in the Torah: ‘Be-ZOS yovo 
Aharon el ha-kodesh.’ what does that mean? That 
means: In ZOS, which is mathematically equiva- 
lent to the year TACH, Aaron will enter the temple. 
In the year TACH will come the great deliverance.” 

Shlomo looked at the old man and recognized him. 
It was the devout little tailor. 


106 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


In the next room stood Jews with prayer-shawls 
drawn over their heads as on holidays, and sang aloud 
the kedushah with the melody which is used only on 
festivals. 


CHAPTER TWO 
SHLOMELE ComMEs HoME 


At the door, mother and nurse waited for the young 
man coming home from the yeshivah. Neither his 
mother nor his nurse recognized him. Shlomele 
was very much altered, having grown into young 
manhood. His thin black beard was already sprout- 
ing and mingling with the long curled ear-locks. 
His beard added age to his features, and the mother 
had a feeling of respect for her son. The glory of 
the Torah rested on him and she was in doubt if 
she might say “‘thou’”’ to him...And Marusha, who 
stood behind the mother, was wiping her eyes and 
sobbing: 

‘The calf is grown up and knows not the cow that 
fed him.” 

The finest room of the inn was set apart for the 
young couple. Two sleeping-benches, which the 
father had ordered from the cabinet-maker for the 
young couple, stood against the wall of the low-ceiled 
room, covered with bed-clothes half way up to the 
ceiling. The beds were separated one from the 
other and curtained off with green cotton hangings 
A large box, re-enforced with iron bands and mounted 
on iron wheels, stood in a corner of the room. It 
was packed tight with clothing and underwear and 
jewelry. A leather belt was fastened to this strong- 


108 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


box, in order that, in time of sudden misfortune, 
in case a panic should arise, it might always be ready 
for the owners to harness themselves into it and drag 
it along with them. There was also a table for eating 
and studying, a wooden sleeping-bench, and a cradle 
stood ready for the child which would come. The 
cradle with its stand belonged to the “suit” of 
furniture which the father had ordered for the young 
couple. But the most important fixture of the room 
was the shelf of books. The books were considered 
the chief stipulation which was embodied in the 
contract of betrothal, and the father-in-law, the 
rabbi, took great care that this stipulation should be 
strictly observed. Books were more precious than 
jewelry,—than the dowry, even. And not with 
money alone was this wealth of books assembled. 
Long years of effort on the part of the rabbi, as well 
as the love and devotion of Mendel brought the 
volumes together. 

Thus stands ready the nest to receive the young 
couple, but his mate has not yet come. In the house 
of her mother the young woman sojourned for six 
years, waiting for the day when her husband would 
return from the yeshivah, a great scholar like her 
own father. The husband is already returned and 
the young couple have not yet met. She is to stay 
in her mother’s house until the day before Passover, 
when her mother-in-law together with her mother will 
lead her into the nest which has been prepared for 
her and her mate. 

For the Great Sabbath, the Sabbath before Pass- 


SHLOMELE COMES HOME 109 


over, Shlomele was invited to his father-in-law’s 
board. On Friday evening, when after the bath 
he came in for the Sanctification of the Sabbath, 
dressed in his new, fur-trimmed coat which he had 
brought from Lublin, he saw his young wife for the 
first time. She was standing in the next room to- 
gether with her mother, the rebbetzin, and was blessing 
the Sabbath candles. Was that his wife Deborah? 
He remembered her only as the child he had left 
behind. And there, at the Sabbath candles with 
her mother, stands a young Jewish princess, a tall 
slender figure, covered with a silver embroidered 
veil. The embroidered head-dress, studded with 
jewels, rests on her high white forehead like a crown 
for her slender girlish head. Her white delicate 
fingers conceal her eyes and face, and he only sees 
her young, supple figure standing proudly, like a 
young cypress, over the burning candles. Now her 
luminous transparent fingers spread apart, and be- 
tween them are revealed two large, black eyes, which 
gaze upon him in silence and deep longing and shy- 
ness. His heart beats fast and a yearning awakens 
within him. It seems to him that those eyes have 
always been with him. He saw them in the long 
winter nights when sitting over the Talmud in the 
yeshivah. An eager tenderness takes possession of 
him, and he gazes upon her, but unable to bear her 
moist, yearning glance, he lowers hiseyes. A moment 
later he raises them again, but her eyesarenow covered, 
and he only sees her shining, ivory fingers and stands 
lost in thought. 


110 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


He is deaf now to the clever exegesis which his 
father-in-law rehearses. The young man is no longer 
thinking of Maimonides with whom he had planned 
to take by storm the fortifications which his father- 
in-law had so cleverly set up. He is now thinking 
of quite other things. Those eyes, those proud, 
black cherry eyes which peeped out between the 
slender fingers at candle-blessing, are now before 
him, and he remembers that he saw them very 
often through the years of his stay at the yeshivah. 
In the sadness of the twilights, when great shadows 
shrouded the walls and tomes of the study-hall, he 
saw those eyes. Even so did Rebekah gaze upon 
Isaac when he met her on the road. Even so Rachel 
gazed on Jacob when he came upon her with her 
sheep near the well. And even so does the Divine 
Presence gaze at the Lord of the Universe when, every 
fast of the Ninth of Ab, she visits the ruins of the 
temple and there meets her Friend, the Lord of the 
Universe, seated in deep sorrow; and two great tears 
flow down from His eyes and set the waters of the 
Jordan to seething. And even so gazes the Sabbath 
Queen when she descends from the heavens and comes 
into Jewish homes, the time when mothers bless the 
Sabbath candles. 

And as the young man is thinking these things he 
suddenly perceives approaching from the next room 
a holy shape. He feels her steps coming nearer, 
though he does not see her. His eyes look down on 
the floor, but within him there is a sudden light and a 
shimmering as of silver. 





SHLOMELE COMES HOME 111 


In the doorway of the room stands Deborah. He 
has not yet looked into her face, but a bright silver 
light is dancing before his eyes. 

‘““Shlomele, your wife wishes to see you,’’ says the 
rebbetzin. 

Shlomo opened his eyes and saw Deborali before 
him. They were alone. 

Deborah was first to speak to her husband. 

““Shlomo,’’ she said, ‘‘When you left for the yeshi- 
vah I wept a great deal. I did not want you to go 
to the yeshivah, for I was a child and did not under- 
stand. Wherefore, you had regard for my weeping 
and did promise me something. And now I have 
come to ask of you if you have kept your promise.”’ 

Shlomo made no reply, but stepped up to the chest, 
opened it and said: 

“Here you have that which I did promise you.”’ 

The girl remained standing before the chest in 
wonder and amazement. The golden slippers 
gleamed out of the chest. She took them out and 
examined the high heels made after the Warsaw 
fashion, and the coat of Slutzk silk embroidered 
with silver. 

For a long time Deborah examined her husband’s 
gift. Then she rose up from before the chest and 
said: 

‘‘And so you did not forget me. And even when 
you were so far away from here and for such a long 
time, you did, nevertheless, remember me and did 
vouchsafe unto me your kindness.” 

“Are you not my wife, sanctified unto me in ac- 


112 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


cordance with the laws of Moses and Israel?’’ her 
husband replied. 

“IT know not if I am worthy of being your wife, 
Shlomo. I ama sinful woman and do not know how 
to bear myself toward God and toward man. I am 
ignorant, and you are such a great scholar. In the 
yeshivah you acquired so much Torah, and among 
strangers so much refinement.” 

“God has gifted you with great charm, Deborah, 
even like mother Rachel,’’ Shlomo whispered. 

Deborah looked at him with her moist glance, 
which Shlomo was unable to withstand. For a 
minute she was silent, then she said: 

“Even for this have I prayed God both day and 
night, that I may find favor in your sight. And 
now that God has heard my prayer, what more do 
I need?” | 

‘What have you done all the time that I was at 
the yeshivah, Deborah?”’ 

‘““Mother taught me how to be a good and pious 
wife, and your mother taught me how to bring up our 
children ‘for the Torah, for the canopy and for good 
deeds.’”’ 

Shlomo came near to her and touched her head- 
dress without looking at her. 

‘“May God grant us happiness and joy all the days 
of our life, Deborah.”’ 

“‘Amen,’’ she responded. 





CHAPTER THREE 
THE FEAstT oF WEEKS 


The beautiful holiday which commemorates the 
receiving of the Torah arrived, and with it came the 
spring to the steppe. Zlochov was inundated by a 
sea of moist, green, velvety grass, which streamed from 
the steppe into the town. The vegetation sprouted 
wherever it could get a foothold, and not only was the 
earth green with the moist plants but the roofs of 
the houses seemed to blossom, and even the walls. 
The houses looked as if they grew up out of the earth, 
decked out and beflowered as they were with the wild 
vine, which clambered all over the walls. And above 
the low roofs, spread the sheltering branches of 
the linden trees which bent towards each other, 
became entwined and hung over the houses like a 
canopy. Every gutter in Zlochov was transformed 
into a row of flowers, and every marsh was covered 
with forget-me-nots. Golden yellow daisies twinkled 
on the moss-covered roofs. Tall bushes of jessamine 
looked into every window of Zlochov, and the frag- 
rance of white lilac filled the little rooms. 

And the breezes of spring which came from the 
steppe began to sweep through Zlochov, blowing from 
the welling waters which had been liberated from 
the ice, winds from the great green sea, which flowed 
around Zlochov in waves of hills and dales of blooming 


114 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


forests and flowered steppes. And the twilights 
came when trees and shrubs became wrapped in 
dark shadows, and Zlochov seemed threatened to 
be wholly engulfed in the steppe and never more to 
emerge from it. 

The day before Shovuos, as the children of Zlochov 
were playing at the log near the public well in the 
market-place, there arrived in town a little old Jew 
with a round white beard, a big sack slung over his 
shoulder and a stick cut from a branch in his hand. 
The children looked eagerly at the stranger, for it 
was seldom that Zlochov had a visitor. Suddenly 
a boy with curled ear-locks and bare feet jumped from 
the log and cried: 

‘There goes the little tailor, there goes the little 
tailor!”’ 

The children recognized the little tailor and ran to 
meet him, shirts and trousers askew, and faces smeared 
over with the juice of berries. 

‘Little tailor, little tailor, Hurrah!” 

“Keep away, away!” The little tailor waved his 
stick. 

‘‘Come to my home, little tailor.” 

“To mine, to mine!” 

“No, to mine! You will sleep on the sleeping- 
bench.’’ 

But the little tailor had his own lodgings in town, 
in the vestibule of the synagogue. The children 
followed him gleefully. In the vestibule he put down 
his sack and took from it gifts of all sorts for the 
children. To one he gave a whistle carved out of a 


THE FEAST OF WEEKS his 


twig; another received a honey-cake saved from the 
previous town; and a third, who was already able 
to read, got a little book. And, as there was still 
time before going to the bath, the children gathered 
around him and he taught them a fine song for the 
holiday. 

At night after the services, the householders of 
Zlochov quarrelled as to which one of them should 
have the honor of entertaining the little tailor. 
Each of them was anxious to observe the sacred duty 
of hospitality, for it was very seldom that they had 
the opportunity of fulfilling this duty in Zlochov. 

The first day of the festival he ate in Mendel’s 
home, this honor being the special prerogative of 
Mendel, as parnas. At the table the little tailor was 
very jolly, he sang and talked, a thing which he was 
not in the habit of doing. He was greatly rejoiced 
over Shlomele because of the young man’s return 
from the yeshivah of Lublin, and demanded tuition 
money from him for having taught him to read his 
prayer-book, and Shlomele rewarded him with a 
cup ofale. As the little tailor drank the ale, he sighed: 

“‘Behold Zlochov grown to be ‘a city and a center 
in Israel,’ the pity of it!”’ 

But no one understood his sighing and his “pity 
of it’. They marvelled over it, but no one questioned 
him, for the ways of the little tailor were indeed 
wonderful. 

Very early the following morning, the second day 
of the festival, Shlomele was sitting in his room 
studying his portion of the Talmud. The little 


116 KIDDUSH HA-SHF M 


window was open, and the trees which grew behind 
the window looked into the low-ceiled room. The 
sweet singing of birds could be heard outdoors, and 
a sweet scent of honey was wafted from the honey- 
flowers of the steppe, and filled the low, little room 
of the young husband and bride. The young wife 
was standing over the chest and taking out her fine 
dresses and jewels with which she decked and em- 
bellished herself to go to the synagogue with her 
mother-in-law. A great charm rested on her that 
spring holiday morning. Her cheeks were tender, 
the bliss of the night still lingered on them, and her 
large eyes were veiled with a brilliant dew as though 
they were not yet awake from the dream of the night. 
And a great love for his wife was kindled in the heart 
of the young man, and he felt for her a great pity 


and tenderness. And her heart also was filled with. 


love towards him, for his Torah chant that holiday 
morning sounded as sweet in her ears as the singing of 
happy birds. For they loved each other very much, 
as is usual with young people just after the wedding. 
And he could not continue his studying, so he placed 
his fur hat on the Talmud folio, and paced up and 
down theroom. And she, his young wife, decked and 
embellished herself before him in her finery. And 
when she was very beautifully adorned, she rose up 
from before the chest and approached her husband 
that he might bless her before she set out for the 
synagogue. And he laid both his hands on her 
beautiful head and spoke as follows: 


THE FEAST OF WEEKS 117 


‘“May your loveliness remain ever with you as 
with our mother Rachel.’’ 

And the young woman took her large prayer book 
with the covers of silver which her father-in-law had 
given her, and with a great flourish, decked out in 
her holiday finery, she set out for the synagogue. 

The people were gathered in the synagogue. The 
women, dressed in their holiday best, are standing 
in their separate section, and through the curtained 
railing look down into the section for the men. 
Between her mother and her mother-in-law stands 
Deborah, beautiful in her new, jewelled head-dress 
which her father-in-law had given her when she had 
presented herself before him in honor of the holiday, 
wearing the golden slippers which Shlomele had 
brought her from the yeshivah. She looks down 
through the railing and sees Shlomele, wrapped in a 
long prayer-shawl, standing on the pulpit, holding a 
scroll of the Torah in a loving embrace, and singing 
a song in glorification of the festival. Like a song- 
bird he caresses with his sweet voice the melody of 
Akdomos, imparting to each word all the beauty 
of the chant. And as Deborah listens to Shlomele’s 
voice, sweet thoughts come to her and course 
through her soul like music, thoughts that softly 
steal their way in and raise a tender blush on the 
young woman’s cheeks and a moist, bashful look 
in her eyes. She hides her eyes in the palm of her 
hands as though afraid lest her mother read in her 
face the sweet thought that she is thinking. 

Still as in a dream sounds the music of her husband’s 


118 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


voice, when a violent noise from the street breaks 
in and drowns the holiday song. No one at first 
dares put away his prayer-shawl and step out to 
see what has happened. And Shlomele strives to 
raise his voice and to add more sweetness to his 
singing, but the tumult of the street comes nearer 
to the synagogue and banishes the holiday. Here 
and there, one and another slip out of the synagogue. 
The parnas is banging on the platform table, and 
the next minute a crowd of men, women and children 
break into the synagogue and a murmur rises up: 

“‘Messengers are coming.” 

“Two messengers from Karsoon.”’ 

“They ’ve come on horseback; desecrated the holi- 
day.”’ 

“It’s a matter of life and death!” 

No one now listens to Shlomele’s trilling; the holi- 
day song is silenced. Mendel is striking the platform 
table, the people are running in and out of the syna- 
gogue. 

All at once there is heard the sound of weeping. 

“What has happened ?”’ 

“‘Silence! Silence!’ Mendel strikes the table. 

Just then the door of the synagogue is opened 
violently, and a frightened voice calls out: 

‘Jews, flee for your lives!’’ 


CHAPTER FOUR 
THE EXILE FROM ZLOCHOV 


On the synagogue platform, decorated with holi- 
day greenery, among the scrolls of the Torah in 
their mantles of silver cloth stand two Jews in their 
week-day clothes, covered with the dust of the road, 
who had arrived on horseback in despite of the holi- 
day. 

The wicked Chmelnitzki has defeated the two Polish 
generals Pototzki and Kalinowski, the Jews report, 
and he is advancing with his armies on the whole of 
Ukraine. The Khan of the Tatars has joined him. 
The kehillah of Karsoon has already been utterly 
destroyed. Many Jews have perished. Only they, 
the riders, have saved themselves, and galloped to 
Zlochov, desecrating the holiday, in order to inform 
their fellow-Jews of Zlochov that the danger is very 
great, that despite the holiday they must flee for their 
lives, because Chmelnitzki with his Cossacks and 
Tatars is advancing on their city. 

Thereupon a panic arose in the synagogue. Mothers 
snatched up their little ones and ran without knowing 
whither. Some shouted that the horses should at 
once be harnessed to the vans and all escape from 
the city despite the holiday. But no one dared do 
it. They could not imagine that their lives could be 
cut off so suddenly. No one found it in his heart 


120 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


to move a single object on that beautiful holiday. In 
the meantime more and more men, women and chil- 
dren came running to the synagogue, as if seeking a 
place of hiding in the House of God. Nooneremained 
at home, all felt that they must be together in the 
synagogue. 

And Mendel the parnas, looking very pale, stepped 
up to the platform and striking the table, spoke as 
follows: 

‘Jews, let us not leave this place. We have built 
up a settlement, a synagogue—in whose hands are 
we going to leave all this? It can not be that a 
whole world should be destroyed. Another day 
or two and help will come. The lord Vishnewetzki 
will arrive with Polish soldiers, other nobles also. In 
the meantime we will hide, lock ourselves in the 
synagogue. And it may be that Chmelnitzki has 


turned aside with his armies toward Chihirin, where 


he lives. What has he against us? We have done 
him no harm. To take a city and destroy it de- 
liberately, to abandon everything to rack and ruin 
—no, we will not go!” 

Many were reassured by Mendel’s words. The 
Jews who had been there from the beginning, when 
the settlement was first built, were so deeply attached 
to Zlochov that they seized upon the ray of hope which 
the parnas offered them in the possibility that 
Chmelnitzki had turned aside toward Chihirin be- 
cause his home was there. The calamity befell them 
so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that they were unable 
to realize the danger. And soon there gathered round 


THE EXILE FROM ZLOCHOV 121 


Mendel a group of Jews, manual laborers, horse- 
dealers who used to travel about among the Cossack 
camps and trade with the Cossacks, often at the 
risk of their lives. They were men of strength and 
courage, their faces tanned by the sun of the steppes, 
with strong, black beards and bushy brows, Jews 
with broad shoulders and large, heavy hands,—hands 
that had built up cities. And they were in accord 
with the parnas. 

““Whoever wishes to go, let him go. We stay 
with our parnas.”’ 

“We stay with our synagogue.”’ 

“The synagogue! In whose care will you leave 
the synagogue? The Cossacks will burn it!’ 

Silence fell upon the assembly. The rabbi arose, 
stepped up to the platform and struck the table: 

‘‘Jews must not risk their lives to no purpose. 
‘And thou shalt preserve thy life,’ is written in the 
Torah. And he who destroys himself knowingly has 
no portion in the world to come. And the saving 
of life takes precedence over the Sabbath, even over 
the Day of Atonement. Therefore, as rabbi, I 
command the parnas of the community to be the 
first to harness his van and leave the city at once, 
for the danger is very great.” 

The parnas did not stir. He remained seated on 
the platform. 

‘“‘Whoever wishes to go, let him go. I will stay 
here with the synagogue. God has built a synagogue 
and he will protect it. Abandon a city to rack and 
ruin,—I will not do it.” 


122 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


The people, seeing that the parnas stayed, were 
in no hurry to obey the rabbi’s command. Around 
Mendel gathered the butchers, the horse-dealers, 
the camp-traders, and no one dared to be the first 
to desecrate the holiday. 

A dead silence fell upon the synagogue. All looked 
to see what the rabbi would do. The rabbi said not 
a word, but stepped up to the Ark, took up two scrolls 
of the Torah in his outstretched arms and started out 
of the synagogue. 

‘Jews, save the Torah scrolls!’ the rabbi said. 

But he need not have said it. Seeing the rabbi 
carrying the scrolls out of the synagogue, the people 
broke into loud wailing. Only then did they realize 
the catastrophe. They recalled the time when the 
scrolls were installed, and they wept frantically. No 
one could speak or think. The scrolls of the Torah 
were taken up, and the people trooped out of the 
synagogue after the rabbi. 

Old Reb Shmuel was no longer alive, so another 
Jew took his little scroll under his arm and left the 
synagogue with it. 

And the rabbi exclaimed: 

“Jews, you may profane the holiday, I command it! 
Harness your wagons and save whatever you can. 
I will do the same.” 

The people hastened from the synagogue after 
the rabbi. There was a running to and fro. Here 
and there horses were being harnessed to the vans. 
They pulled them up in front of the houses, helped 
in the little ones, and began dragging out their be- 


THE EXILE FROM ZLOCHOV 123 


longings, especially books and bedding. Some pulled 
out of their houses the chests in which they kept 
their precious articles, harnessing themselves into 
the leather belts and dragging the trunks on wheels 
through the streets towards the cemetery. Others 
snatched up whatever first came to hand—a dish, 
a garment, a piece of furniture. Some still had on 
the prayer-shawls they wore in the synagogue. Thus 
the people of Zlochov followed their rabbi out of 
the city and on the road to Nemirov. 


And on the platform of the synagogue still sat the 
parnas of the community, firm as a rock, listening to 
the stamping of hoofs and the grating of wheels. 
That was Zlochov on the run, Zlochov flowing out— 
and he stirred not from his place. Around him were 
gathered the laborers and horse-dealers, and all were 
silent. 


Shlomele stood near his father. He agreed with 
the rabbi that the saving of life takes precedence over 
everything, and he begged his father to leave the 
synagogue and go with the rest. But his father 
continued to sit immovable as a rock. 

“God built a synagogue, and he will protect it,’’ 
he mumbled in his beard. 

Seeing his father bent on staying, he stayed with 
him. And together with him were Deborah and the 
rest of Mendel’s family. And the old Christian 
woman Marusha stood near the door of the synagogue 


and cried: 
‘Dear master, run away; the little brothers will 


124 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


come from the steppe, they will spare no one. Save 
your life.”’ 

But no one noticed her, for she dared not go into 
the synagogue but stood near the door weeping to 
herself. 

The noise and tumult outside began to subside. 
Zlochov became drained and empty. The steppe 
now won back the portion of which man had robbed 
her. The synagogue became silent. Cold draughts 
seemed to be wafted from its dark corners. Through 
the two little red-and-blue windows in the ceiling 
brilliant pencils of light entered and zigzagged across 
the synagogue, lighting up the open Ark and the 
stars which were painted on it. In front of the pulpit 
burned a solitary candle which the sexton had lighted 
for the holiday services. Around the railed platform 
still hung the rushes and other greenery, for it was 
the custom so to decorate the homes and synagogues 
in memory of Mount Sinai. On the platform sat 
the silent guard, the parnas and his companions, 
who remained with him to defend the synagogue. 

Suddenly some one rose up from a corner and ap- 
proached the platform. It was the little tailor. 
No one had until then noticed him where he sat 
in a corner, singing his Psalms. Mendel and the 
others were surprised to see him. The little tailor 
looked hard at them and then spoke as follows: 

“You are guarding the synagogue? What will 
you defend it with? Force? Is God in need of your 
force? Is not a stone, a piece of wood stronger than 
you are? Does God lack force?’’ 


THE EXILE FROM ZLOCHOV 125 


No one answered him. 

But suddenly, in the corner from which the little 
tailor had emerged, a pale flame was seen to shoot up. 
The fire seized upon the curtain which hung in front 
of the Ark near by. And the next moment the oil- 
soaked pulpit-stand was ablaze. 

“Fire! Fire! The synagogue is burning!’’ 

“Who did it?” And the men jumped up to run 
to the fire. 

“Wait, I did it!’ And the little tailor kept the 
people back. ‘‘When the Lord of the Universe 
wanted to banish the Jews from Eretz Yisroel, says the 
Talmud, they had all incurred the penalty of death. 
But God poured out His wrath upon stones and sticks 
of wood. He burnt the temple and saved the Jews. 
Are you going to be better than the Lord of the Uni- 
verse? What is it that you were going to protect? 
Stones and sticks of wood! Save your strength; 
God will require your strength for a higher purpose, 
when the time will come and we shall be privileged. 
Save your lives, they do not belong to you, they be- 
long to God!”’ 

The Jews were awed by the voice of the tailor. 
One by one they began to slip out of the synagogue. 
Moreover, there was nothing left to defend. The 
curtains and furniture, covered with oil and tallow, 
burned like kindling wood. 

“Better so! We’ve burnt it ourselves before the 
goyim could desecrate it. Come, brothers, let us 
harness our horses,’ the parnas cried, and together 
with the members of his family, he left the synagogue. 


126 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


“Up, old woman, and help pack. It is getting 
late.” 

A few minutes later, Hillel pulled up in front of 
the inn, and out of the house they began to bring 
the books and the chests. It was high time, for the 
priest together with some Cossack peasants had slipped 
into the inn and were beginning to steal the liquor. 

“T have always told you that the little brothers 
will come from the steppes. They come flying on 
swift horses and the Angel Michael accompanies 
them,”’ the priest, already drunk and staggering, 
cried to Mendel with great cheerfulness. 

‘“You hound’s son,’’ Marusha beat the drunken 
priest over the head with a slipper, ‘* When the master 
is away the pigs crawl out of the sty.” 

And as the parnas’s van was leaving the city, the 
last in the procession, Mendel turned and looked 
for the last time on Zlochov. He saw the synagogue 
burning alone and it reminded him of a candle that 
burns for one that is dead. 


ee” knoe - - 


CHAPTER FIVE 
“We Witt Do AND OBEY” 


Long caravans of covered wagons wound across 
the steppe, filled with women, children and bedding, 
converging from the entire neighborhood towards 
Nemirov. At night, afraid to proceed on account 
of wild beasts, they halted near a river. The women 
and children fell asleep and the men mounted guard 
in order to protect the wagons against wild beasts 
and wicked Tatars. 


They built a fire, and the old Jews sat around it, 
devoutly chanting Psalms, while the younger men 
stood guard. 

It was the night of the second day of the festival 
of Shovuos, when Jews ordinarily rejoice in the Torah. 
The pious little tailor would not allow the people 
to fall into melancholy. 

“Jews, let us rejoice in the Torah!’’ 

The people made no answer. Each one was pre- 
occupied with his own affairs. Their grief in having 
left their city was very great, and they forgot the 
holiday, they forgot their faith in the Lord of the 
Universe. And that was why no one answered him. 


‘‘Poor Jews,—at the very first trial you lose your 
faith,’’ some one remarked. 


‘““And perhaps this is His way. He wants to see 


128 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM. 


the Jews rejoice in the Torah, not in the houses of 
cities or in synagogues, but in the open field.” 

‘‘ And the Jews who received the Torah from Mount 
Sinai had no cities or houses either, and no synagogues 
as yet. They were encamped in the open field even 
as we are, nevertheless they said: ‘We will do and 
obey.’”’ 

‘We will do and obey!’’ some one exclaimed. 

And it was as if a great consolation had come upon 
the people, as if a spark of hope had kindled their 
hearts and caused their faith to blaze up. They 
began to understand, to perceive the reason of it, 
and soon one of them took out the little scroll, the 
Zlochov scroll which accompanied the Jews into 
exile, and exclaimed in a loud voice: ‘‘We will do 
and obev!”’ 

And the people responded lustily: 

“We will do and obey!” 

Some one began to sing the Psalms from the Praise 
Service, and the people after him. The children 
woke up and saw the great fire burning in the steppe 
and the Jews dancing around it with their scrolls. 

“We will do and obey!”’ 

And the steppe was transformed into a Mount 
Sinai—loud the fire crackled, and far and wide re- 
sounded across the steppe the cry of the Jews, danc- 
ing with their Torah scrolls around the fire: 

“We will do and obey!” 

In a few days they reached Nemirov. The city 
was full of newcomers, Jews from all over the region, 
who had fled thither to take refuge in the fortified 


my Pa. an ee 


“WE WILL DO AND OBEY” 429 


city against Chmelnitzki’s Cossacks. The Kehillah 
of Nemirov, with its parnas, Reb Yisroel, and its 
rabbi, Reb Yechiel Michel, at the head, did for 
the refugees *everything they could. The new- 
comers were housed in the synagogues, the women 
and children in the women’s sections. And the 
charitable women of the city collected bedding and 
clothing and arranged comfortable beds for the women 
and children. In the synagogue court off the Jewish 
street, fires were blazing beneath great kettles of 
food for the hungry. Whoever had a relative or 
an acquaintance, near or distant, sought him out, 
and soon Nemirov became one large community. 
Both the residents and the newcomers slept in 
communal houses and ate together out of the com- 
munal kettles. 

The news came that Chmelnitzki had turned aside 
to capture Chihirin, his own city. There he had 
massacred the entire Jewish community, with Reb 
Zechariah at the head, upon whom he inflicted 
terrible tortures before putting him to death. Reb 
Zechariah and the entire community of Chihirin 
died for the sanctification of His name as befits 
Jews. They put on their praying-shawls and white 
robes, and assembled in the synagogue, where they 
all perished. The news also came that Chmelnitzki 
had burnt several Jewish settlements, among them 
Zlochov. But they still had confidence in Prince 
Vishnewetzki who was advancing with a large army 
from the other side of the Dnieper to give Chmel- 
nitzki battle. So they waited for Prince Vishnewetzki, 


130 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


who was also a great friend of the Jews, to defeat 
the wicked one, so that the Jews might return to their 
ruined settlements. 

But it soon became known that Chmelnitzki de- 
feated the noble friend of the Jews. Prince Vish- 
newetzki retired to Lithuania, and the entire country 
was left without any defense, abandoned to the enemy. 
Nor could they expect any help from Warsaw, be- 
cause after the death of king Vladislav, the nobles 
could not agree as to who should be chosen king of 
Poland. And the kingdom of Poland was left like 
a ship without a rudder. 

So the rabbi of Nemirov, Reb Yechiel Michel, 
called a meeting of all the parnasim and other 
notables who happened to be in Nemirov, in order 
to take counsel together on what they should do, 
for the danger was very great indeed. 

At the meeting there were differences of opinion. 
Some held that they ought to leave the city and move 
on to Tulchin, which was a stronger fortress. Others 
urged that they remain where they were. Among 
the latter was the parnas of Zlochov, who spoke as 
follows: 

‘““Whither shall we go? Whither shall we flee? A 
whole country of Jews are going to flee! And where 
are we going to stop? And will they not come to 
Tulchin also? If, God forbid, no help should come, 
they are sure to conquer the entire country as far 
as Lvov, as far as the Vistula. But it is impossible 
that Poland should perish. The nobles are not going 
to allow their own cities and villages and property 


“WE WILL DO AND OBEY” 131 


to be burned. Help is bound to arrive. How can 
a whole country be abandoned to destruction?” 

They all listened to the words of the parnas of 
Zlochov, and agreed that there really was nowhere 
to flee; that if Nemirov, with its rabbis and parnasim, 
with its stalwarts and its large assemblage of Jews, 
should have to flee, then it was really the end of the 
world. And, they agreed, it was impossible that the 
nobles would abandon the whole of Ukraine to the 
enemy. 

“But what shall we do?” the Jews asked. 

‘“‘Nemirov has a fort. On one side there is the 
river, on the other sides the walls. We number, 
thank God, several thousand Jews here in Nemirov. 
To begin with, let us intrench ourselves in the fort 
so that the Russians who live here and the Poles 
may not be able to surrender it to the Cossacks when 
the latter reach the city. And we will defend our- 
selves until help arrives from Poland. It is impossible 
that a Government should allow an entire country 
to perish.” 

‘The plan pleased them all, and it was agreed that 
they should follow the wise counsel of the parnas of 
Zlochov. 

Only m a corner of the meeting room sat the little 
tailor and mumbled fiercely to himself: ‘Force! 
Do they wish to help the Lord of the Universe with 
their force? Save your strength for yourselves. A 
time will come when you will need your strength for 
yourselves, for a higher purpose!’’ 

But no one paid any attention to him. The small 


132 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


town parnasim who were assembled at the rabbi’s, 
were all of them Jews in the same position as Mendel. 
They had themselves built the towns of which they 
were the leaders, and because they loved the towns 
from which they came and were unwilling to abandon 
them to ruin, they all concurred in Mendel’s advice 
and began at once to carry it out. 

On one side of Nemirov flows the river, and a stone 
rampart enclosed the other three sides of the city. 
On the corners of the walls stood high stone bastions 
which had a number of old rusty cannon. But there 
was no ammunition and no one knew how to operate 
them. But the Jews had no thought of shooting, 
but only of how to fortify themselves. So they be- 
gan by strengthening the gates of the wall. The 
Jewish blacksmiths forged long iron bands, bolts 
and iron chains with which they strengthened the 
gates. And about the walls they set up scaffolds 
with ladders, and built a wooden fortification on 
which they assembled heaps of stones, sharp poles 
and cauldrons of boiling water. 

There were also in the city several hundred Poles 
and a number of German artisans who knew how to 
use fire-arms. But the Jews were not willing to 
trust them with the walls or the bastions. They were 
willing to let them stand on the scaffolds and help 
repel the Cossacks when the latter arrived. The 
first thing the Jews did was tohide the girls and young 
women and their precious possessions in the bastion, 
and they themselves mounted the walls. 

Nemirov became more and more crowded. More 


“WE WILL DO AND OBEY” 133 


and more Jews arrived from the small towns, and 
they brought the woeful tidings that Chmelnitzki 
had sent out his general Krivonos with a large number 
of Cossacks and Tatars who were advancing on 
Nemirov. A great fear fell upon the Jews. And 
the rabbi, Reb Yechiel Michel, assembled the people 
in the Nemirov synagogue on the Sabbath and he 
put on his prayer-shawl, and stood up to address 
them. 


‘““My masters, we do not know what is in store for 
us,’ said the rabbi. ‘‘A serious time for Nemirov 
is approaching. The Lord of the Universe desires 
perhaps that we die to sanctify His Holy Name. In 
that case, we are prepared and ready. Perhaps the 
enemy comes to conquer not our bodies but our souls. 
For our bodies we have prepared a defense, we 
have fortified the walls. Have we also prepared a 
defense for our souls? If the wicked one should come 
and say: ‘Give ye unto me your souls and I will 
let you live,’ will you be strong enough to have no 
pity on your lives, on your wives and your children, 
and die for His Holy Name as did the Ten Great 
Martyrs, as did all the holy and the pure?” 


The synagogue became silent. The women ceased 
their sobbing and the men their groaning. There 
could be seen only shining eyes and pale, mute faces 

And one of the people exclaimed: 

‘“‘Hear, O Israel, The Lord our God, the Lord 


is One!’”’ 


And the people after him exclaimed as one man: 


134 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


“Fear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is 
One!” 

The rabbi was silent. He no longer spoke of 
martyrdom. His voice became softer, and he began 
to comfort the people: 

‘‘And this, perhaps, is only a trial. And you must 
remember the commandment: ‘Thou shalt preserve 
thy life.” Every Jew is in duty bound to save him- 
self as best he can. And he who takes his life with 
his own hands is guilty of the sin of ‘destroying 
himself knowingly,’ and has no portion in the world 
to come. You must not linger for anything, neither 
for possessions of gold and silver, nor, even, for holy 
books. For you do not belong to yourselves but 
to the Lord of the Universe, and you shall not risk 
your lives for anything but for the Holy Faith alone.’’ 

A loud weeping arose in the synagogue when the 
rabbi was done. Families assembled together, 
each family, husband, wife and children, sitting 
separately, saying farewell to each other and com- 
forting each other. And the faith of the people 
became stronger for the words of the rabbi. 


The following day, the sentinels on the bastions 
saw a great cloud of dust rise up from the steppe. 
So they descended and brought down the black tid- 
ings that the wicked ones were coming. At once 
the men came running and took their posts on the 
scaffolds near the walls, armed with stones, axes 
and crow-bars, which they had assembled on the 
rampart, and the women brought kettles with boiling 


“WE WILL DO AND OBEY” 135 


tallow and hot ground cereals which they had made 
ready. Then there hastened up Pan Kashnitzki, 
who was Prince Vishnewetzki’s representative in 
the city, together with a number of Poles, sword in 
hand, and he cried to the Jews: 


“What are you doing? For whom are you pre- 
paring the stones and heated cereals? For the soldiers 
of Prince Vishnewetzki, who are coming to save 
you from the Cossacks? Do you not recognize the 
white Polish Eagle on the red flags? Do you not 
recognize the tufts of peacock feathers on the heads of 
the soldiers? Are the peasant Cossacks dressed in 
royal ermine jackets? And are you not able to see 
from the distance the heavy ear-to-ear mustaches, 
not the drooping lobster-feelers of the Cossacks? 
Open the gate for the heroes of Prince Yeremiash, 
and go out to meet with honey-cakes and pearls 
the heroes who come to save you and your wives and 
children from the Cossacks!’ 


And, in truth, there was seen emerging from the 
cloud of dust a forest of flags on which the white 
Polish Eagle glistened in the sunlight. Here and 
there fluttered white flags in advance, as though 
bringing tidings of help and deliverance. And soon 
the entire rampart resounded with one shout of Joy: 

‘Help is here! Help is here!” 

The women came out of the fortress with the little 
ones in their arms, clambered up the ladders and on 
to the walls, and, seeing the Polish flags in the dis- 
tance, they cried: 


136 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


‘‘A miracle from God! See, see what God sends 
down from heaven!’ 


And the people of Nemirov came out on the streets, 
came out from the most secret hiding-places, from 
cellars and holes. Whoever had hidden for fear 
of the Cossacks came to the gate of the wall to 
see the arrival of the Polish soldiers who had come 
to their rescue. Here and there were assembling 
deputations of Jews, dressed in their holiday clothes, 
and carrying Torah scrolls, in order to welcome the 
soldiers of the Prince. Mothers were hiding their 
daughters for fear of the soldiers who were coming.... 
And youths and boys gathered on the wall to see the 
heroes march in. 


The soldiers are already near the wall, but the 
Jews are in no hurry to open the gate. A herald 
with a white flag comes riding in advance, and after 
sounding his bugle calls out: 


‘“‘Open the gate for the soldiers of Prince Vishne- 
wetzki!”’ 


‘“‘Stand aside, Jews, stand aside! Open the gate, 
Polish soldiers are coming,’’ shouts Pan Kashnitzki. 


‘We shall see. When they reach the gate we shall 
see what sort of soldiers they are,’’ the Jews at the 
gate answered. 


The soldiers are in no hurry to advance to the gate. 
The army is still at a distance, having halted in the 
little wood behind the city. They continue sending 
heralds with buglers, but the Jews refuse to hear of 
anything. 


“WE WILL DO AND OBEY” 137 


“We don’t know what sort they are. Let them 
come closer to the gate and we will see what kind 
of soldiers they are.’’ 

“Ah, little Jews, cowards, how afraid you are! 
Open the gate and let me out to them. If I do not 
return—if those are Cossacks—it is my death. If I 
return, they are Poles. I do not need any of you. 
I alone will risk my life, and do you go and hide be- 
hind your women’s skirts!’ The Polish nobleman 
taunted them. 

The Jews opened the little door in the gate and let 
Pan Kashnitzki out. The herald conducted the Pan 
to the army halting in the wood. There the Pan stayed 
a long time. Then he returned, mounted on a white 
horse and carrying a Polish banner. On either side of 
him was a bugler. The buglers blew a blast and the 
Jews stationed themselves on the rampart. The 
Pan read from a paper in a loud voice. : 

“In the name of his Excellency, the Prince of Russ, 
Yeremiash Vishnewetzki, the Lord and proprietor 
of Nemirov, I command the inhabitants of Nemirov to 
open the gate for the soldiers of his Excellency.”’ 

“Long live our protector, Pan Vishnewetzki!”’ the 
Jews responded, and opened wide the gate. 

The deputations ranged themselves in order. From 
the little wood the soldiers dashed forward to the gate 
helter-skelter, waving their banners in disorder and 
shouting ‘‘Hurrah!’”’ The Jews were frightened. 

Not in this manner does a friendly army enter its 
own city. But it was already too late. The first 
horsemen were already in the city. 


138 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


By their long, drooping mustaches, like the feelers 
of lobsters, the Jews recognized them, and a terrible 
cry rose up in the city: 

“The Cossacks! The Cossacks!’ 


CHAPTER SIX 


NEMIROV 


‘All this is come upon us, yet have we not 
forgotten Thee, neither have we been 
false to Thy covenant.”’ (Psalms) 


A panic broke out in the city. The men snatched 
up whatever came to hand, the women caught up 
their little ones in their arms, and everybody ran. 
But whither to flee they did not know. Some cried: 
“To the cemetery! The rabbi has gone to the ceme- 
tery. If we must die, then let us be buried in Jewish 
graves.’ Others cried: “To the river! The rabbi 
ran totheriver.’’ But the Cossacks were already close 
behind them. In the streets were heard cries of 
terror of young voices, of maidens and young women 
whom the Cossacks caught up on their horses. Here 
and there a cry burst out and ended abruptly. And 
soon a dead silence reigned over all except for the 
dull thud of horses’ hoofs. 

The narrow streets of Nemirov became silent and 
empty as if all the inhabitants had died out. The 
streets were strewn with torn leaves of books, stained 
garments, fur hats, head-dresses, household utensils, 
broken brass candlesticks, strips of prayer-shawls 
and bodies of human beings. It was difficult to 
tell which was a body and which was a garment. 
Everything was jumbled together, beaten into one 


140 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


mass by the horses’ hoofs. From the closed and 
shuttered little houses were heard frantic cries, cries 
of young and old and of little children that were 
abruptly cut off, the rattle of the dying and the long, 
long cries of young and strong voices. Occasionally 
a Cossack appeared coming out of a house half 
naked, his shirt torn and carrying in one hand a silver 
or brass candlestick and under his other arm a young 
girl, half naked with hair disheveled. The girl, strain- 
ing to free herself from the Cossack’s grasp, struggled 
and beat him on his naked back with her fists, which 
made the Cossack curl up his lips and laugh. An- 
other Cossack came out of a second house carrying 
another girl who was half dead and lay unconscious 
across his bare broad shoulders. And both Cossacks 
stopped, laid their victims on the ground at their feet 
like bound calves, and exchanged girls, making up 
the difference in value by paying one another silver 
candlesticks, pieces of silken cloth, garments, boots 
or fur coats. Having made the exchange they parted, 
each one dragging away his victim. From another 
street appeared three drunken soldiers, half naked, 
with shaven heads and long twisted pigtails protrud- 
ing through their sheepskin caps across their fore- 
heads, their faces and bodies dripping with perspira- 
tion in the blazing sun, and carried on their backs 
naked children, some dead and some still alive, and 
called out in the streets, mimicking the Jewish butchers: 
‘Fresh veal, twelve groshen a pound! Kosher killed, 
Kosher!”’ 

But soon silence intervened. The cries of terror 


NEMIROV 141 


in the closed houses ceased, except that from time to 
time, in some remote street, a hue and cry arose 
suddenly and grew still just as suddenly. In the streets 
of Nemirov wallowed drunken, half-naked Cossacks, 
wrapped in women’s silken shawls and Jewish fur 
coats. Some were covered with torn prayer-shawls 
and strips of silken cloth. There lay about naked 
Jewish women, girls, children, dead and _ living, 
shattered chinaware, broken articles of ritual. Here 
and there were strewn about torn parchments of 
Torah scrolls, leather bindings of books, kegs of 
liquor, tin plates with trampled food, weapons, pieces 
of Turkish carpets mingled with human blood and 
spilled liquor. It was impossible to tell who was 
dead and who was alive. All seemed drunk, both 
the living and the dead. 


The hot summer day dragged on and on. It 
seemed as if it would never end, and that the terrible 
dread would last forever. Outdoors, the hot, bright 
day illumined all things. But finally shadows began 
to creep up from the steppe and the night began to 
weave its dark pattern from house to house. And 
soon all things were covered with the blackness of 
night. Silence and blackness all about, and the stars 
on high, and a buzzing and croaking from the marshes 
as on every other night. Only the silence of death 
hung over the black little houses. And in the midst 
of it all, some one strummed on a lyre and sang a song 
bewailing some one’s dark fate. 


142 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


In the city cemetery there was a stirring in the 
stillness of the night. From behind the headstones 
living corpses began to emerge. Some were wrapped 
in prayer-shawls, others were dressed in their long 
white prayer-robes, and still others who had had 
no time to seize their burial garments, hid in the 
cemetery, with the one thought of dying in the Jewish 
cemetery, where they would obtain kever ytsroel 
among Jews. All day they waited for death, but 
death did not come. From the city they heard the 
terrible cries of the tortured, and they pronounced 
in a body the prayers of the dying when they confess 
their sins. And each one sought out the grave of 
his nearest and dearest and lay down waiting for 
death. But the day passed, and no one appeared 
from the city. The cries in the city came to an end. 
Then a hope was born in the hearts of the living. 
They found the courage to creep out from behind 
the headstones and one corpse began to speak to 
another. 

‘Praised be God, it is the end of the month, and 
there is no moon. It is a dark night.’’ 

“Will they go away, perhaps?” 

“Is there any help?’ 

“*Sh-sh-sh....”’ 

Many had provided themselves with burial-clothes, 
and before running to the cemetery, had taken them 
along and put them on for two reasons, first, to make 
the Cossacks, if they should come, take them for 
corpses, and second if, God forbid, they should be 
doomed to die, they might be buried in their own 


NEMIROV 143 


burial-clothes. And now, in the night, among the 
head-stones, they looked like corpses which had 
clambered out of their graves and were wandering 
about among the living. Occasionally such a “‘corpse’’, 
dressed in burial-clothes, made its way into a group 
of living persons to beg. 

“Who has a morsel of bread? I am starved,” 
begged an old woman in burial-clothes. 

‘“‘She is wearing her burial-clothes and is thinking 
of food,’’ some one remarked. 

“‘How can we help it? As long as the soul is in 
the body we must have food,”’ replied the old woman. 


Among the different groups there was also Mendel 
with his family. When the calamity struck, he, like 
other Jews, intended to get across the river with 
his family and escape to Tulchin. But when they 
saw the panic and havoc near the river, they concluded 
that they were doomed in any case, so they ran to 
the cemetery in order to die among Jews. All day 
the family remained together waiting for the death 
which they expected any minute. They said fare- 
well to each other, and together pronounced the con- 
fessions of the dying. And Shlomele, who was 
a great scholar, comforted them and gave them 
strength. He assured them that they would enter 
straight into paradise, where those who die for His 
Holy Name are at once admitted. And he gave them 
a description of paradise with all its degrees and at- 
tributes, the sun of seven-fold strength, and the 
Heavenly Court with its eternal peace, where the 


144 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


righteous sit with crowns on their heads, and the 
angels play on golden harps and the Lord of the 
Universe studies with them the Torah. He was more 
familiar with the other world than with this. In 
the sacred books of homilies and in the books of 
kabbalah he had learned concerning the great and 
holy life of the other world, where the Patriarchs and 
the holy ones of ‘all generations are to be found. 
And what was this world with its terrors, with the 
dominion of the wicked, compared with the great 
and everlasting benefits of the world eternal? 

With his words he lifted the spirit of his father and 
mother and young wife, and prepared them for the 
great trial which awaited them. They became calm 
and were happy that they had with them their son 
as a guide and comforter in their great extremity. 
They forgot the anguish of death, they were freed 
from the terrors of the world, and seeing only the 
great and profound peace which awaited them im- 
mediately after death, they looked forward to it as 
to a great deliverance. 

And under a headstone sat the young couple, 
Shlomele and his wife. The night enfolded them. 
In the heavens the stars shone big, and from the bank 
of the river behind them in the valley rose the tumult 
of the Cossacks. A shot rings out, little fires 
flicker and become extinguished, and occasionally 
a stifled sob breaks through the night. The girl 
clung fast to her husband. It was not death she 
feared, but parting with the joy she had begun to 
feel; and closer and firmer she clung to him as though 


NEMIROV 145 


she wished to die near him and together with him, 
that they might never be separated. 


“Shlomo, we have just begun to live and we must 
part. God has not privileged me to be the mother 
of your children.” 


““Deborah, we have been united by God. He will 
bring us together again when we shall have the pri- 
vilege of appearing before Him in holiness and purity. 
There, in the Heavenly Court, we shall be together 
forever, and delight in the glory of the Divine Presence 
until the Messiah will come, until the trumpet of 
the Messiah will awaken us for the resurrection of 
the dead.’ 


And all at once their anguish became transformed 
into a great joy. They knew not themselves how 
it came about. They felt that a great Sabbath 
was descending on the world and that they were 
entering into it with immense joy. And by reason 
of their joy, they recovered the power to shed tears, 
which they had lost because of the anguish of death, 
and the young woman said with a radiant smile 
which shone through her tears: 

‘When you speak, I find it so easy to die, Shlomo. 
Why do they not come and release us? I would find 
it as sweet to die as I should find it sweet to go with 
you to the marriage canopy.” 

‘Say not so, Deborah. As long as we live, we must 
pray for life, not for death.” 

“With the dear God all things are possible. Yes, 
Shlomo, we shall live. I do so want to live for you, 


146 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


for you, Shlomo, so that I may have the great privi- 
lege, Shlomo.” 

“Be still, little Deborah, be still.”’ 

“Oh I do so want to live with you together,— 
in this world or in the next. Oh, to live and to know 
that you are with me.’’ And the young girl fell 
sweetly asleep in his arms. 

Shlomo sat near her and gazed at her. Her delicacy 
and beauty made his heart tremble. It seemed to 
him he no longer knew her. She seemed divested 
of all things earthly, she became as light, as ethereal, 
as one of the daughters of heaven, as one of the holy 
Matriarchs, as that divine feminine, the Divine 
Presence, that weeps in the night on the ruins of the 
temple, as the dove that symbolizes the People of 
Israel. 


CHAPTER SEVEN 
ACROSS THE RIVER 


The night brought the will and the hope to live. 
Mendel abandoned the thought of dying. All his 
eagerness and energy were awakened. His shining eye 
looked keenly about, and all could read his thoughts. 
He was looking at the sleeping Deborah. 

Deborah was young and beautiful, and if the 
Cossacks should capture her, they would spare her 
life and do her evil, which is worse than death. No 
one spoke of it but all were aware of it and thought 
of it. 

In the meantime the people began to stir. Here 
and there little groups were formed, talking low and 
whispering. This gave Mendel even more energy. 
He rose up from his place. 

‘What are you going to do, Mendel?” 

“T’ll go to the fence and look—perhaps—”’ 

““Mendel—”’ 

‘““Hush-sh...” 

“Where are you going? I’ll not let you,’’ his 
wife held him, ‘‘If we must die, let us die together.”’ 

“T’ll go to the fence, perhaps there is hope...”’ 

Deborah awoke. She looked about her frightened 
and asked: 

“Who is playing so beautifully? I heard music 
in my dream.”’ 


148 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


And, in truth, the sound of a peasant’s lyre was 
heard in the distance. It was playing a sad, weeping 
melody. A dread fell upon the Jews. Some said 
the Cossacks were coming, and the people fled among 
the headstones holding their breath. The mothers 
covered their children and warned them not to cry. 
Soon there was total silence in the cemetery. The 
only sounds heard were the trembling of the lonely 
willows aloft in their long branches and the song of 
the lyre, which came nearer and nearer. 

At last some one came into the cemetery. The 
playing stopped and a Jewish voice called out: 

“Jews, Jews, ‘it is a time to act for the Lord.’ 
What are you waiting for?” 

The people found courage to rise and come nearer 
to the stranger. By the light of the stars they saw 
an old beggar with a lyre in his hand. 

‘“Who are you?”’ 

“You don’t recognize me? Why, I’m the little 
tailor. I can speak Russian, so I disguised myself 
as one of their ‘ancients’, and am living among 
them. Now you must save your lives. I heard 
them say that in the cemetery there are many Jews 
with much gold and silver and that at daybreak they 
will come here. You must flee for your lives.” 

“Whither?” 

“The river is calm, the blackguards are making 
merry in the city, guzzling and committing all manner 
of evil. Woe to the eyes that look upon it. Who- 
ever is able, let him escape across the river, for the 
danger is very great.” 


ACROSS THE RIVER 149 


The people began to move about. From behind 
the headstones black shadows began to gather, 
murmuring and moaning. Suddenly there was a 
running to and fro. Here and there were heard 
sudden cries and groans. 

““Hush-sh—they will hear you,’ 
the others. 

‘What are you doing? The goyim will see you!” 

‘“Singly, singly...scatter over the field,’’ some 
one commanded. 

And here and there some one crept by and slipped 
out. 

But Mendel remained sitting, looking intently at 
Deborah without stirring. He was pondering deeply. 
They all knew what he was thinking of, and Deborah 
also knew, and sat silent like one guilty. 

The cemetery became more and more deserted, and 
Mendel still sat without moving. 

Suddenly some one crept near to them, and threw 
herself at Mendel’s feet. 

‘““Dear master, save yourself. The night is dark, 
run away.’ And falling on Deborah’s neck she be- 
gan tosob: “Dear little daughter mine...” 

Mendel and his family were surprised to see old 
Marusha, the Cossack inn-servant. They forgot 
their danger for a minute in their gladness at seeing 
her. 

“What are you doing here? Why are you not in 
the city? They will do you no harm.” 

“What are you thinking of? Am I going to 
abandon my masters and go and make merry with 


bd 


several warned 


150 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


the Cossacks? If we must die, let us die together. 
With whom I have eaten my morsel of bread, with 
them will I live and die.”’ 

“But how did you get here?” 

“T followed you. Seeing my masters run to the 
cemetery, I also ran. I feared you would drive me 
away because I am of a different faith, so I lay quiet 
as a cat under a stone and thought to myself: ‘I'll 
lie here and wait until the little brothers come, and 
then I’ll take my two little ones and protect them 
with my body and say: You may kill me, but spare 
my little ones.’ Of a different faith, but still my 
little children.”’ 

‘‘Go back to the city. Don’t you see? We are 
in danger ourselves. Go back to your own people 
or they will torture you like us.” 

‘“‘Dear little master, do not drive me away,”’ the 
woman implored. ‘I have served you faithfully, 
and I love my little children. And I have come to 
save Deborah. Here I have brought her Cossack 
clothes, I will disguise her as one of our own. I 
will say she is my daughter, and so the little brothers 
shall not notice her; I will make her old and ugly. 
You take the mistress and the young master and swim 
across the river. Perhaps God willhelp you. Donot 
take the young mistress. I know my little brothers, 
the Cossacks. They scent a young woman miles 
away as the dog scents the hare. And for a woman 
they will leap into Hell, not only into the river. 
I’ll disguise her as a Cossack woman and take her 
to a fisherman not far from here. We will say we 


ACROSS THE RIVER 151 


are peasant women. I will give him eggs and he 
will take us across in a boat. There on the opposite 
bank we will meet again. Or else, I will bring her 
to you in Tulchin, with the help of God. With me 
she is safer than with you. Like my soul will I 
guard her, like my life,—my chick, my little one.”’ 

For a minute hope blazed up anew in Mendel. He 
liked the woman’s proposal. But he could not bring 
himself to part with Deborah, although he realized 
that she was safer with the Cossack woman than 
with him. The feeling of “‘dying together’’ was so 
strong in him that he only stood silent and thoughtful. 
No one dared say anything or give any advice. They 
all waited for the father to decide. 

But Marusha did not let him think. Again she 
threw herself at his feet and prayed: 

“Dear little master, save yourself. I was in the 
city, I saw what the little brothers did to the Jews. 
The little brothers of the steppe have become wild 
and forgotten God. Evil times have come. The 
Cossacks have forgotten God. Run, run away.” 

‘“Follow me. What matters it how death strikes 
us?’ Mendel urged on his family. 

They left the cemetery, which lay in the valley, 
and soon reached the top of the little hill. From this 
point they saw the encampment of the Cossacks 
lying along the river. The camp was lighted up by 
the fires which burned beneath the kettles, and here 
and there by torches. The Cossacks were not yet 
asleep. The sound of playing and singing or drunken 
cries arose from different points. Circles were formed 


roZ KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


around dancing couples. Occasionally, a shout burst 
forth throughout the encampment. All these things 
could be seen and heard in the space between the 
hill and the edge of the river. 

Marusha threw herself at Mendel’s feet. 

‘Dear little master,’’ she implored him, “don’t go 
there. You see what is going on. It is certain 
death. The little brothers will see us. They’ll de- 
tect the young woman.” 

“We must separate. In any case, we are face to 
face with death. When day comes they will see us. 
Perhaps, if we will seek to save ourselves, God will 
help us as he has done up to now, and we will meet 
again in Tulchin. And if, God forbid, we are fated 
to die, then let us die for His Holy Name’s sake,”’ 
said Mendel to his family. 

And Mendel embraced them and lifted: up his eyes 
to heaven. 

“Oh, Lord of the Universe, be our help!’’ 

None of them wept. They embraced for the last 
time in silence. she 

“Say farewell to your wife, Shlomele. Perhaps 
God will help us if we separate.’’ 

Husband and wife remained alone for a minute. 
Shlomo stroked her hair and spoke as follows: 

_ “Deborah, have faith in God, He can do all things,— 
even when the knife is at the throat.”’ 

She said nothing, but looked into his eyes. 

‘““And we shall yet meet again, Deborah, because 
of your great merit, for you are one of the righteous, 
Deborah.” 


ACROSS THE RIVER ae 


“Because of your great merit, Shlomo. And if, 
God forbid, we do not meet again, I will come before 
the Lord of the Universe in holiness and purity, even 
as you have taught me.”’ 

“Take heed to your life, Deborah, and place your 
hopes in God!” 

“For the sake of our children which God will 
grant us,” the young wife whispered. And that 
was her last word to her husband. 

Husband and wife separated. 

““May God reward you for the goodness which 
you show us, Marusha,”’ said Yocheved to the Cossack 
woman. “In your hands I entrust all that is dear 
to me, my life and the life of my son. And may God 
reward you for what you are doing for us. I know 
not if I shall be able to reward you.”’ 

‘“‘Pray God for us and we will pray for you,’’ said 
the old Cossack woman, and disappeared with De- 
borah among the bushes. 

Another minute Mendel waited. The tears which 
only now were able to break through, were streaming 
down Yocheved’s face. For a minute Shlomo lis- 
tened to the rustling of the branches and dry leaves 
where his joy had vanished. 

Mendel now said: ‘‘Come, in God’s name.”’ 

And Mendel began to creep on all fours among the 
bushes and weeds down hill towards the river, and 
his wife and son after him. 

For a long time they crept among the bushes and 
weeds. The voices of the Cossacks came nearer and 
nearer. Now they could hear their laughter and talk. 


’ 


154 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


More than once they thought they were lost. But 
God helped them, they reached the bank unobserved. 
The tall weeds concealed them. The camp had now 
become more quiet. The fires beneath the kettles 
began to die out and the din to subside. The torches 
on the wagons were still burning, and here and there 
a Cossack was taking his horse to the river’s edge to 
water him. Mendel, with his wife and son, lay in 
the weeds to one side and waited for the camp to 
subside even more, so that none might hear their 
splashing in the water. They were afraid to speak 
to each other and lay there holding their breath. 


“The Lord seems willing to help us,’’ Mendel 
whispered: “I will take your mother on my back, 
and you, Shlomo, follow me. And if you should 
grow weak, seize hold of me.” 


There were two quiet splashes one after another, and 
two black spots began to move on the surface, dis- 
turbing the silent ripples. The river gave a sudden 
heave backwards, and soft waves, one after another, 
began to lap the sandy beach. 


On the bank a Cossack was lying on his saddle, 
gazing at the big stars deep in the sky, and humming 
a melancholy, monotonous tune. He was roused 
from his waking slumber by the rocking of the wave- 
lets on the beach. He looked around swiftly and his 
keen eye at once espied the two little streams furrowing 
the gently rippled surface of the river. His eagerness 
conquered his sloth, the two feelings for a minute 
waging war within him. He took up his spear. He 


ACROSS THE RIVER 195 


was already barefoot and the Tammuz night was warm. 
There was a splash in the water. 

In the midst of his exertions as he swam, Mendel 
thought he heard the call of ‘““Shema Yisroel’, And 
out of habit, Mendel, as he swam in advance with his 
wife on his back, responded in a paroxysm of dread: 
“Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One!’ 

And when he stopped on the other bank, he found 
himself alone with his wife, and in the star-light he 
perceived on the surface of the river a little stream 
heading for the opposite shore. 


CHAPTER EIGHT 


THE CAPTIVE 


“Thou sellest Thy people for small gain, 
and hast not set their prices high.” 
Psalms. 


‘“‘What have you caught, little brother Cossack?” 

‘‘A little Jew, a young one. I thought it wasa girl, 
so it looked from the distance. Then I see it’s 
a young man with trembling ear-locks,”’ said the 
Cossack who had waited for him on the bank. 

‘What will you do with him?”’ asked the Cossack. 

“Tdon’tknow. Tokill him would bea pity. Here 
I went and got myself wet all for nothing.”’ 

“Tf you let him live, you’ll have to feed him.”’ 

“That is true, too,” replied the Cossack with a 
groan. 

Near the Cossack lay Shlomo dripping and bent 
double. He heard the words of the Cossacks, but 
they no longer concerned him. He was ready to die, 
and was now saying to himself his prayer of last 
confession. For a minute he may have pitied his 
young life and regretted the happiness which he had 
only begun to enjoy. But he was so certain that he 
would meet Deborah in the next world, where they 
would live the great eternal life in everlasting peace, 
that he was happy to be now approaching it. And if 
he did regret something, it was that Deborah was not 


THE CAPTIVE 157 


near him and that they were not to die together. 
The uncertainty as to what might befall Deborah 
tortured him, as well as the thought that he was 
separated from heratthelast moment. Butsoon there 
came over him the tranquillity of faith in God, who 
sees and knows all things. 

The Cossack was holding him by the coat, and 
more Cossacks gathered around them. The night 
was dark and calm. The steppe and the river merged 
together and were lost somewhere in the night. 
Only the bank of the river was lighted up with little 
fires. One Cossack after another approached the 
group. They wereall eager to know what the Cossack 
had pulled out of the river. 

“Is she young or an old grandmother?’’ And one 
of them took a torch and held it to Shlomo’s face. 
Seeing the long, trembling ear-locks on the pale 
young face, they burst into wild fits of laughter. 

“Ho ho ho! He allowed the Jewess to get across 
the river, and fished out the Jew. Look, Cossacks, 
see what he has caught. Just look at his catch. 
Oh, you are a fine fisherman!” 

The Cossack, a young fellow, with a good-natured 
face and two keen little eyes, examined his victim. 
He had already kicked Shlomo several times, not out 
of viciousness, but in his perplexity at not knowing 
what to do with him. At last he made up his mind. 

“T’ll baptize him and make a gift of him to the 
Church. I'll earn a little merit before God for my 
pains.”’ 

As he spoke, the Cossack took from around his neck 


158 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


a little metal cross and brought it close to Shlomo’s 
face. 

“Pray to Christ, get on your knees before Him, and 
I’ll let you live.” 

Shlomo did not answer him. He remained lying 
as before, all huddled together, with his face buried 
in his bosom. 

““Get up, Jew,’ said the Cossack, lifting him from 
the ground. ‘‘Look here, now, I am going to do you 
a great kindness. JI am going to induct you into the 
Holy Church and, besides, I am going to let you live,— 
just because the Cossacks laughed at me. Pray to 
God, get down on your knees before Him and kiss 
the cross, and say after me these words: ‘In the 
name of the Father, the Son’.... Say them, accursed 
Jew, or I will kill you. As God lives, I’ll kill you.” 


But as soon as the Cossack released his victim, 
Shlomo fell to the ground, buried his face in his hands 
and remained silent. 

“You will not do anything with him. I know these 
young fellows. In Karsoon I captured one of them, 
a young handsome one, it was a pity to kill him. 
I was willing to give him my own daughter tobe his 
wife. ‘Get baptized,’ I say to him, ‘and I will let 
you marry my daughter. You will come with me to 
the camp and become a Cossack.’ It was all in vain, 
I had to kill him. Tough leather, that lot. The 
rabbis cast a spell over them. The rabbis give them 
a certain red wine to drink when they circumcize 
them, and this red wine does not let them forget their 


THE CAPTIVE 159 


faith. You will not do anything with him. Better 
kill him.” 

“Their rabbis give them blood to drink when they 
get circumcized, and the blood possesses such power 
that whenever they wish to change their religion, the 
blood comes and prevents them,’”’ said a second 
Cossack. 

“It is said that they see a sort of light before they 
die. In the light they see their mothers, and this 
does not let them change their religion. But when 
their eyes are covered, they are unable to see the 
light.” 

‘““What’s the difference? You will not do anything 
with him. Kill him.” 

“Give him to me!” begs another Cossack. 

“What will you do with him?” 

“T will make a present of him to my grandmother.” 

The Cossacks laugh. 

“Kill him, don’t let him suffer. It’s a sin to 
laugh at one of God’s creatures,’’ says an old man. 

“You are right, little father, it’s best to kill him,” 
decides the Cossack who had captured Shlomo. 

In the distance the playing of a lyre is heard. A 
little old man approaches the Cossacks, leaning on his 
stick and plucking at the strings. 

“Ah, Cossacks, what are you laughing at?’ 

*‘Can’t you see, old man? A little Jew has been 
captured and we don’t know what to do with him.” 

“Sell him to Murad Khan. He buys up all the 
Jews. Foran old one he paysa piece of silver and for 
a young one a piece of gold. You may even be able 


160 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


to obtain, in addition, a kettle of Tatar beer to treat 
your comrades with. A shrewd fellow, this Murad 
Khan. A great heap of Persian carpets and Turkish 
weapons will he get for the Jews out there in Turkey. 
And our little brothers, the Cossacks, don’t know how 
to take care of what they have. They kill the Jews. 
In Constantinople they fetch high prices.’’ 

“You speak wisely, old man. Our brother Cos- 
sacks don’t know how to profit from what they have,’ 
another Cossack assented. 

“‘Hey there, old man, take us to Murad Khan. 
Where is he?’ says the Cossack, seizing Shlomo 
by the collar and dragging him along. 

“You had better not hold him so, you must take 
care of him. For a dead Jew Murad Khan will not 
give you anything,” says the little old man. 

““Make him prance a little, like a young horse. 
Give him some brandy to make him look livelier.” 

One of the Cossacks took a copper vessel filled with 
brandy, applied it to Shlomo’s mouth and forced 
the young man, who was half dead, to drink. 

‘‘Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is 
One!”? Shlomo heard a voice in his ear. 

As though in a dream, but roused somewhat by 
the spirits, he looked around him and saw the little 
old man who took his hand and said to him: 

‘What now, little Jew, are you asleep? Wake 
up and praise God!” 

The voice sounded familiar to Shlomo, very familiar, 
but he could not remember where he had heard it. 

They arrived before a large court-yard surrounded 


THE CAPTIVE 161 


by a fence. From the other side of the fence was 
heard. a murmur of Jewish voices as of people praying 
aloud. On a carpet before the door of the court- 
yard sat Murad Khan, and near him burned a vessel 
filled with pitch. Before him on the carpet lay little 
heaps of copper and silver coins, various Turkish 
articles, carpets, objects of barter. Murad Khan, 
a sickly man, with a long drooping mustacheand calm, 
lack-luster eyes, sat silent; near him stood two Tatars 
with covered heads and called out in Cossack language: 

“Little brother Cossacks, bring your captives to 
Murad Khan. Murad Khan, the great merchant, 
is buying up slaves.” 

“Cossacks, Cossacks, Murad Khan pays for slaves 
with good Turkish money.” 

A small Tatar approached the group of Cossacks, 
looked Shlomo over, felt him, and pointed with his 
hand at two small coins. 

“With a pot of Tatar beer,”” the Cossack haggled. 
The Tatar shook his head. 

“Then I’ll kill him,—as God lives, I’ll kill him. 
If you give mea pot of Tatar beer to treat the Cossacks 
with, then well. If not, I kill him.” 

The Tatar approached Murad Khan who sat 
squatting on his feet, sorrowful and mute like one who 
is being consumed by some disease. His face was 
listless and his sad almond-shaped eyes were without 
expression. 

Murad Khan shook his head. 

“In that case, let us kill him and not sell him to 
the Tatars.” 


162 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


‘‘Wait, dear little Cossacks, wait,’ says the old 
lyre-player, and coming close to the Tatar, he whis- 
pered in his ear and gesticulated: 

‘That captive, there, is a very important Jew. 
I know him, he isa rabbi. The Jews of Smyrna will 
pay abigransom for him. A rabbi, that’s what he is.”’ 

Again the Tatar approached Murad Khan and 
repeated to him what the old man had said. 

Murad Khan nodded. The Tatar took a pitcher 
of beer, which stood near Murad Khan, and carried. 
him to the court-yard among the captives. 

From the other side of the fence was heard the 
singing of Psalms: 

“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall 
I fear?’’ 

“‘Come, dear little comrades, let us drink,’’ said 
the Cossacks, and sat down on the meadow to drink 
the Tatar beer. 

““And you, lyre-player, play us something jolly, 
and sad also,’’ some of them begged. 

The Cossacks sat in a circle around the player. 
He took up his instrument, plucked at the strings, and 
sang to them the following in a strange medley of 
Hebrew and Polish: 


Oh Thou, Ribbono shel olom, 
Why dost Thou not notice, 
Why dost Thou not witness 
Our bitter golus, our bitter golus? 
Our bitter golus we shall vanquish, 
To our land we shall return! 


THE CAPTIVE 163 


Return to our land, 
And there find our Lord, 
And there find our Creator, 
And there find our Redeemer. 
To despair we all refuse 
Our courage we’ll not lose; 
Our Mother redeemed shall be, 
Our Home rebuilt we’ll see. 


Be ye wise, await the end! 


Abraham, dear Abraham, 
You, our first old man; 
Isaac dear, oh Isaac dear, 
Grandfather ours; 

Jacob dear, oh Jacob dear, 
You, our father: 


Why don’t you plead for us? 
Why don’t you plead for us? 
Why don’t you plead for us? 
Before our Lord, our God? 


Our homes rebuilt shall be, 
Our land redeemed and free. 
And to our land restoréd we 
Our own, own land, 

Our own, own land... 


CHAPTER NINE 
THE DICE 


A little fire of twigs was burning in the steppe. 
Near the fire sat three Cossacks, haggling among 
themselves: 

‘“‘T saw her first, therefore she belongs to me,’”’ one 
of them, an old man, said. His shriveled face was 
illumined by the blazing twigs, and his small eyes, 
which were imbedded in his big broad face like two 
raisins in a lump of dough, glistened in the dark. 
He bent down towards the girl, who lay a little dist- 
ance away from them on the bare field, covered with 
a long, white, Cossack cloak. He tried to stroke her 
with his old hairy hand, but it was forced back by 
the hand of an old woman, who was kneeling near 
him in a crouching posture, watching over the girl. 

“Tt means nothing that you saw her first when 
she was hiding in the jungle,’”’ said the second. 
“What you saw was an old donkey, and it turned 
out to be a pretty little filly. An old grandmother 
is what you saw, a little old Cossack woman, before 
we scared her out of the bushes. And then it was I 
who recognized in her the young Jew girl. I pulled 
the cloth from her head and washed from her face 
the mud with which the old witch had disguised her. 
You saw an old blind plug, a lame old donkey, that 
is what you saw, and I found a young eaglet, a little 


THE DICE 165 


dove. Well, now, to whom, does she belong, to me 
or to you?”’ Thus did a young cossack blood argue 
with the old man. The fire lighted up his full round 
face, which looked out from his high fur cap. He 
had a pair of black, childlike eyes, which looked out 
good-naturedly, even in anger. 

“And I say, all three of us found her, so she be- 
longs to all three. That would be comradely and 
in true Cossack fashion,’’ said the third Cossack, 
who sat near the fire. He did not excite himself, 
nor shout, as did the other two, but spoke firmly and 
with assurance. His two mustaches hung down over 
his mouth like the two feelers of a lobster. He was 
half naked, and the fire played on the copper color 
of his skin. He was holding a lump of pork on a spit 
over the flame. Drops of molten fat dripped into 
the fire, and made it crackle noisily. The fire cast 
a red glow on his copper-colored face, which now as- 
sumed an ashen hue. His elongated black eyes were 
buried deep in the sockets. His face also was elong- 
ated, his cheek bones protruded sharply, and on his 
chin stiff black bristles were scattered. His head was 
shaven, and a long wisp of hair, which was left on his 
forehead, came down across his cheek, and this lent 
to his face a tense and mute expression, as though it 
had never been visited by a smile. 

“Belong to all three? Oh no, comrade, either to 
one of us or to none,’’ replied the young one. 

‘Ho there, little suckling, don’t talk back to an 
old Cossack. The times we live in!’’ the first old man 
groaned. 


166 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


‘Otherwise, let us kill her,’’ remarked the squatting 
Cossack. 

“Tt would be a pity to kill her, dear little comrade, ”’ 
the first Cossack replied. ‘‘It would be better to 
bring her to the Tatars; the Khan hasn’t such a one 
in his harem. He will give us a little bag of gold for 
her, and the gold we will divide up.”’ 

‘And what else will you take to the Khan? Your 
own wife and daughters? Ah, the times that have 
come upon us! Cossacks have become the servants 
of the Khan. Chmelnik has sold us completely to 
the Tatars. A Cossack can no longer afford himself 
a pretty Jew girl. Everything must be taken to the 
Khan. No, dear little comrade, either she will belong 
to one of us or else let us kill her, rejoined the half 
naked Cossack, and saying this, he took out from his 
girdle a little bag and shook out of it some bone dice. 

“Comrades, let us act like Cossacks, let us throw 
dice, and whomever the dice will indicate, to him she 
will belong. It will be his good fortune, and let there 
be no jealousy among Cossacks on account of a pretty 
Jew girl.” ‘ 

“Right! Spoken like a comrade and a Cossack! 
Whomever the dice will indicate, for him God intended 
her, and let there be no jealousy among Cossacks on 
account of a Jew girl.” 

The young Cossack stood in silent thought, and 
with his velvet eyes gazed at the white coat under 
which lay the victim. 

“Give way, little brother; shall Cossacks fall out 
on account of a Jew girl? Whomever God will de- 


THE DICE 167 


signate, to him she will belong; and if not to you, 
then you will be able to get other Jew girls, enough 
to fill up your mother’s stables. Krivonos will lead 
us to Tulchin, where Jewish women from all of 
Ukraine have gathered, and you will be able to pick 
to your heart’s content.’”’ 

The young Cossack bent suddenly down toward 
the fire, took the dice and threw them. 

“Three, eight, five,’’ they began to count. 

‘Six, three, ten.”’ 

“Good throw!” 

“Five, eight, twelve,’’ someone called out and laugh- 
ed, and his laughter re-echoed in the night from the 
edge of the field. 

Under the white Cossack cloak lay Deborah, and 
her shining eyes watched the game of dice by the 
light of the fire. She knew that the game was for 
her. She was the stakes. But not for a minute did 
she despair. An inner assurance that God would 
help her overflowed her heart. She believed in all 
Shlomo had said to her before their parting, that God 
would bring them together and that they would live 
together again. In her extremity, she remembered’ 
and longed for the happiness of the days when she 
was together with her husband. In that remem- 
brance she found calm, and believed firmly that the 
time would come when God ‘would deliver her from 
all her troubles and restore her to her husband. And 
this faith gave her strength to live. 

Again cries arose near the fire. 

‘“‘Three, six, five.” 


168 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


‘Seven, three, eight.”’ 

ilawha ita ye 

“Four, eight, twelve,’ a hollow voice laughed 
heavily in the night. 

At this moment there suddenly rose up from the 
grass the black spot which was kneeling near Deborah, 
and which they believed had been silenced forever by 
the blow she had-received from the Tatar Cossack. 

“For your souls may you throw dice, for your 
mothers, but not for my eaglet, my little one, not for 
her whom I brought up with so much suffering, not 
for my precious own one,”’ old Marusha cried to the 
Cossacks, and bending down to the young woman, 
she embraced her and comforted her. 

‘‘ Precious soul mine, God will help us, you will see, 
God will send a fire down upon them. Ah, the Cos- 
sacks have become wild, forgotten their God, forgot- 
ten their own fathers and mothers, there is no fear 
of the king in them and they obey no law. Ah, 
God’s anger will destroy you with thunder and with 
lightning! He will burn down the bridges beneath 
you. He will cause the earth to split open. You. 
will sink down into Hell, you sons of dogs.” 

“‘Be silent, old witch, be silent, you, who have sold 
yourself to the devil.” 


“Let us cut her tongue out.’’ 

“No, rather the head, then you will not have to 
cut the tongue separately.”’ 

From beneath the white cloak the shining black 
eyes now looked up into the sky and into the stars. 


THE. DICE 169 


They were full of the faith that there among the stars 
sat He who knows and sees all. 

Of one thing she was certain, that she did not wish 
to die. She would live and fight for her life as long 
as she would be able to, even as she had promised 
Shlomo. Not for her own sake but for her husband’s, 
that she might be privileged to be the mother of his 
children. 

The Cossacks were throwing dice for the last time: 

“Three, six, five.” 

There now came to her mind the morning of that 
Shovuos festival before the great disaster, when the 
green trees and meadows looked in through the win- 
dows of their little room. She sees him again sitting 
over the Talmud, swaying over it, and studying aloud. 
She hears his voice, and it rings in her ears like a song. 
And she stands near the chest and decks herself out 
for his sake, no, for the sake of God, in order to go to 
synagogue—in the holiday jewels which he had 
brought her from Lublin, and she approaches him in 
her pretty head-dress, and he lays his hand upon her 
head and looks deep into her eyes. 

From near the fire there now sprang up a tumult, 
clapping of hands, a wild, bestial laughter. She did 
not understand what it meant, but she knew that the 
crucial moment was at hand, and that now God 
would help her. 

From near the fire someone rose up. The silent 
naked Cossack approached the white spot with shuf- 
fling steps, and tore away the Cossack cloak. In 
the starry night there was revealed a girlish body, 


170 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


half wrapped in torn rags, which curled up and shrank 
into itself like a worm. 

“You will not come near, you will not do my child 
evil, I will scratch your eyes out,’’ old Marusha cried, 
and sprang up like a maddened cat between the Cos- 
sack and the young woman, and stretched out towards 
him her two bony hands. 

She wanted to say something more, to utter some 
prayer and entreaty, but suddenly a blow rang out, 
and old Marusha crumbled to the ground like a bag 
of broken bones and groaned: “Have mercy, 
Father.” 

The Cossack stretched out his hand and tried to 
seize Deborah, but with the agility of a cat, she 
sprang aside. Her eyes sought for help, and there 
flashed before her the soft form of the young Cossack, 
lighted up by the fire where he stood. His sad, 
velvet glance seemed to caress her, and a sudden hope 
of salvation flashed up in her mind. 

“Save me from him, I don’t want to belong to 
him,’’ she said, and clung to the young Cossack, 
seeking shelter near him, as does a child under a tree 
when it rains. : 

The young Cossack quivered. Her girlish voice, 
which he heard for the first time, since he had cap- 
tured her, made his heart leap, and when she looked 
into his face with her moist prayerful eyes, he was 
unable to bear her glance, and avoided it. He re- 
mained standing firm as a tree, and did not stir. His 
face became pale and his heart began to beat strangely. 

For a minute the second Cossack looked to see 


THE DICE it 


what the young man would do, then with heavy steps 
he approached the girl and stretched out his hand 
towards her. 

‘‘He cheated in the game, I will not go to him,” 
Deborah cried, when the Cossack began to approach 
her. 

The young man was still standing mute and motion- 
less asa tree. But in his eyes a little fire had lighted 
up. 

“Be silent, accursed one, and come to your master.’ 
He tried to seize Deborah by the hand and drag her 
to himself. 


The young Cossack moved swiftly to one side and 
placed himself directly opposite the other. 


Two knife-blades flashed up in the light of the fire. 


“Cossacks, what are youdoing? Will you slaughter 
one another for a Jew girl? Are there not enough 
Jew girls in Ukraine? Cossacks, reflect what you 
are doing,’’ the third one shouted. 


But he was afraid to approach. Both Cossacks 
stood facing each other, looking into each other’s eyes, 
and the curved Turkish knives glistened in the light. 


And suddenly, like a wild animal, the young one 
leaped upon the other with his knife, and the next 
moment the older man lay on the ground and rattled 
heavily in the night. 

‘‘Curses on you, you sinful soul! For the sake of 
a Jew girl you have murdered a Cossack, may the 
sin lie upon you like a heavy burden wherever you 
turn and wherever you go,” the second old man 


172 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


cursed. Then he spat out and walked off by himself. 
into the night. 

For a moment the young man stood and seemed 
lost in thought. Then he appeared to remember 
something and called after the retreating Cossack into 
the night. 

“Ho there old man, where are you going?” 

“T will not have anything to do with you, you have 
sold your soul to the devil,’’ a voice replied to him 
from the blackness of the night. 

For a minute he stood still, not knowing what to 
do. He looked about him, seeking the girl with his 
eyes. He found her lying on the grass unconscious. ° 

He stooped, lifted her up and brought her to the 
fire. Then he took his cloak and covered her. He 
sat down near her alone. The light of the fire illum- 
ined her face. He saw how white her face was, and 
the lids which were drawn over her eyes as in a dove, 
and a tender feeling took possession of him for the 
frail creature that lay near him. 


CHAPTER TEN 
IN THE OPEN FIELD 


“What is your name, Jew girl?’”’ the Cossack 
asked. 

“Deborah. ”’ 

‘‘And mine is Yerem,’’ the tall Cossack flashed his 
white teeth in a smile. 

Deborah shivered. 

“Why do you shiver? Are you cold, Jew girl?”’ 

Deborah nodded. 

‘‘Come closer to the fire.’ 

But Deborah remembered the nurse and looked 
around for her. 

‘What are you looking for, the old woman?”’ asked 
the Cossack. And he took up old Marusha, who lay 
motionless on the ground from the blow she had re- 
ceived, and dragged her over to Deborah. Deborah 
seized her old head and pressed it to her bosom. 

“Wait, now, I'll make her well again,”’ said Yerem. 
“Hey, old woman, take a pull out of this horn,’’ and 
the Cossack put to her mouth the horn of spirits 
which he carried with him. ‘‘Take a good drink, 
you can afford yourself, the little brothers have 
enough.’”’ 

After drinking Marusha opened her eyes, looked 
about her, and seeing Deborah near her, embraced 
her eagerly. 


’ 


174 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


“You are alive, my little bird! Thank God!”’ 
And approaching Yerem on all fours, she seized his 
hands and kissed them. 

“You eagle, you mighty one who saved us from the 
hands of the Evil One, save us, in God’s name, save 
the little bird. Oh, you angel sent by God!”’ 


‘‘And what is she to you, a daughter?” 

‘More than a daughter, my all, my life, my soul,” 
and she embraced Deborah as if wishing to shield 
her. 

‘But she is Jewish and you are a Christian.’”’ 

“T don’t know myself. She is knitted to my soul, 
though of a different faith, like a bird from a strange 
nest. Haven’t I brought her up from childhood? 
Her and her husband, from the time when they were 
still tiny ones.” 

“She has a husband?” 

“Yes, eagle, married not long ago. Came back 
from the school, got married, settled down in their 
nest—to hatch little ones—and just then came the 
misfortune. ”’ 

‘“‘And where are her people?”’ 

‘“‘God alone knows. Saved themselves or fell into 
the hands of the Cossacks. Who knows if they are 
alive?” 

‘““How could they be alive, being lost among the 
Cossacks?’’ he declared, and approaching Deborah, 
he took her hand and asked: 


‘And are you willing to be mine, Jew girl?”’ 
Deborah was silent. 


IN THE OPEN FIELD 175 


‘“‘How yours, eagle? Hasn’t she a husband?” said 
old Marusha. 

“Be silent, old woman, her people are not living 
any more. The Cossacks have killed all the Jews, 
so she has no more husband. If you will be mine, 
Jew girl, you will live, if not, you will die. Just as 
you like.”’ 

Deborah remained silent. 

“Well, why don’t you answer, Jew girl? It will 
be a bad thing if you don’t answer. By right, you 
belonged to Yefrem Skvoz. He won you with the 
dice. But he cheated, so I killed him and saved you. 
For myself I have saved you. Because you please 
me and I took a liking to you as soon as I saw you. 
Well, now, say, Jew girl, are you willing to be mine? 
You promised, didn’t you?”’ 

Deborah was still silent. 

‘But you are so good, you are an angel. A mother 
bore you, not a bitch, like those others. There is 
God in your heart. How can you do such a thing? 
You will not commit a sin before God. She has a 
husband,’’ Marusha pleaded. 

“Be silent, old woman, or I’ll beat you up as 
Yefrem did. You have been told, haven’t you, that 
her husband is not living any more? He’s been killed, 
all the Jews have been killed. ”’ 

‘“‘But suppose he has saved himself?’’ asks the 
old woman. 

‘‘He’s been killed, and if not, then I’ll kill him. 
And you, old woman, be silent, you devil. You are 
a Cossack woman, and you should side with the 


176 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


Cossack, not with the Jew. You have sold your soul 
to the Jew devil; beware, old woman!”’ said the Cossack 
angrily. He then sat down at the fire near Deborah, 
took her hand and said to her as gently as he could: 

“You belong to me; from the very first I saw 
that you were young and beautiful. Through the 
rags in which the old woman dressed you, I saw all 
that. And the moment I looked at you my heart 
leaped, and at once I loved you and had pity for you 
as for a little fledgeling dove. To no one will I give 
you up, neither to the Hetman nor the Khan. I will 
kill them all and keep you for myself.” 


For a minute Deborah was silent. Suddenly she 
looked straight into the Cossack’s eyes and said: 


‘“T am in your hands and you can do with me what 
you please, and yet I am not afraid of you. One 
stronger than you keeps guard over me. You may 
beat me and I am not afraid of you. Should I wish 
to, I will be fond, and should I not wish to, I will 
not be fond.” 

‘‘‘Should I wish to I will be fond, and should I not 
wish to I will not be fond’—well said, Jew girl, well 
said. And I will not force you to be fond of me. 
But if you will not, this is what I will do,” says the 
Cossack, and approaches the old woman. “I don’t 
know what she is to you, a mother or something else. 
It is all the same. Come, now, Jew girl, if you will 
be mine, I'll let her live, if not I'll kill her.” 


Deborah’s eyes flashed. Only for a moment was 
she in doubt. Then it became clear to her that she 


IN THE OPEN FIELD 5 bY 


must save the old woman. How to save her she did 
not yet know, though she was ready for anything. 

Then she said with an appearance of bashfulness: 

“Your wife I will be, but not your mistress.’’ 

“That is right; there you have spoken well. That 
suits me: my wife you will be, but not my mistress.” 

‘“What have you done, daughter? For the sake of 
my old days you have sinned before God. What 
have you done?”’ Marusha exclaimed. 

“Be silent, old woman. Do I not love her?”’ said 
the Cossack, deeply moved. “It can be nothing else, 
but she has cast a spell over me. My best comrade 
I have killed for her. He was my uncle,” he pointed 
to the dead Cossack, ‘my teacher he was, taught me 
to ride and shoot and I have killed him for a Jew girl. 
My own mother I could kill for her. It’s nothing 
else but a spell that she has cast over me.” 

A sudden thought occurred to Deborah. She stood 
up from near the fire, and drawing herself up to her 
full height in the light of the flame, she remained 
standing like an apparition from another world. 

“It was I who brought that about.” 

“How did you bring it about?” 

“With the magic which I possess.’ 

“And broke the oath which you swore to your 
husband, and forgot God, you wretched creature!”’ 
the old woman reviled her. 

Deborah raised her thin, beautiful arms to the sky, 
and threw back her pallid face to the stars. 

“So I have been ordered to do.” 

“By whom?” 


178 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


“By Him who dwells on high, and through His 
might. ”’ 

The simple Cossack was frightened at her expression. 
He turned to. the nurse: 

“What is she saying?” 

“I do not know,” the nurse also stammered with 
fear. ‘‘I do not recognize her. It’s with her God 
that she speaks in that way.” 

‘“My body I have anointed with the magic oint- 
ment which He gave me, and no one can do me any 
harm. Here I stand before yOu; now try your knife 
on me and see if I lie.” 

The Cossack was terrified. His nostrils began to 
tremble and his knife twitched in his hand. 

‘What are you doing? What are you saying?” 
the nurse embraced her. 

“You fool, oh you old fool! Why are you fright- 
ened? Do you not know that when God protects me 
no harm can come to me?” 

The nurse sank down on her knees before her, 
seized her hands and buried in them her old face 
which was wet with tears. 

The Cossack stood at a distance, trembling. A 
terror had taken possession of the tall, strong peasant 
in the presence of the girl. 

“Come home to my mother, Jew girl. In my 
mother’s house I will keep you until the wedding. 
The Cossacks may come and see you and take you 
away from me.” 

“T will not go with you until you have sworn me 
an oath by your soul and by your faith.” 


IN THE OPEN FIELD 179 


“‘T will swear for you any oath, beautiful Jew girl. 
Say what you wish me to swear to you by my soul 
and my faith.” 

“TI know, Yerem, that you are good. You have 
saved me from wicked hands. You have not permit- 
ted evil to befall me. God will reward you for all 
that. Promise me now, Yerem, before I go with you, 
that until the wedding you will spare me, respect my 
purity and do me no evil.”’ 

The tall Cossack smiled. 

“Before God I promise you, my beautiful Jew girl, 
that until the wedding I will spare you, respect your 
purity and do you no evil.” 

‘Remember, Yerem, you have promised by your 
faith and sworn by your soul. And if you will have 
evil thoughts and desire to do me evil, then through 
the magic which I possess I will at once know your 
thoughts. And as soon as you will desire to do me 
evil, the Higher Power which protects me will come 
at once and take me away from you. And you will 
not be able to help it.”’ 

‘Before God I swear,’’ says the trembling Cossack, 
“to guard you like a holy ikon, like a saint.”” And 
he wrapped her up in his long white Cossack cloak 
and led her out of the field to his mother’s home. 
Old Marusha followed them. And the dawn began 
to pale, ighting up the tops of the trees, which began 
to look out upon the world as out of a mist. 


CHAPTER ELEVEN 
FoR THE FAITH AND FOR THE TORAH 


Chmelnitzki continued to negotiate with the Po- 
lish Field Marshall Dominick with regard to sub- 
mitting to the Polish Crown, and at the same time 
continued to send his Cossack hordes to destroy de- 
fenseless towns in order to pay his Cossacks with the 
loot. To maintain the friendship of the Tatars he 
had to enrich the harems of the Khan with beautiful 
young Jewesses. A horde of ten thousand Cossacks, 
led by one of his brigands named Krivonos, fell 
upon the cities and towns of Ukrainia and wiped them 
off the face of the earth. The Cossack hordes were 
followed by bands of Tatars like swarms of black 
birds of prey. 

In vain did the noble Prince Vishnewetzki beg 
the Polish nobles and authorities for help for this 
little army of Polish soldiers who fought against the 
Cossacks and Tatars. His voice which warned 
against the Cossack danger remained unheeded. The 
Field Marshall Dominick still counted on Chmel- 
nitzki’s justice and willingness to submit to Poland. 
He continued to make concessions to the Cossacks, 
and to confer new honors and titles on Chmelnitzki, 
thinking in this manner to placate the Cossack leader. 
The nobles were engrossed in the election of a new 
king to succeed king Vladislav who had died. No 


FOR THE FAITH AND FOR THE TORAH 181 


one was concerned over the fate of the distant Uk- 
rainian province. [In the end Vishnewetzki himself 
had to leave his little army and travel to Warsaw 
to seek help from the dissolute nobles for the unhappy 
people of Ukrainia. 

In the meantime the entire region lay defenseless 
and open to the Cossack hordes. Likea river which 
overflows its banks, they overran one city after 
another, annihilating all living things. They plund- 
ered and burnt the cities; and the people, young and 
old, Polish and Jewish, they put to the sword. Only 
those who were suitable for the slave-markets, the 
Tatars allowed to live. And they enriched their ha- 
rems with the comely women and girls. 

After Nemirov they headed for Tulchin. In the 
fortress of Tulchin the Jews from the surrounding 
towns as well as the fugitives from Nemirov had 
taken refuge. So there was assembled in Tulchin a 
Jewish population of ten thousand souls and con- 
siderable wealth which the Jews had taken with them. 
The Cossacks headed for this wealth, and the Tatars 
for the women and the girls. 

But Krivonos and his hordes of Cossacks found it 
no easy matter to capture Tulchin. The city was 
fortified, and the Jews who were, for the most part, 
fugitives from towns that had been destroyed, knew 
what it meant to fall into the hands of the Cossacks. 
So they determined, rather than fall into the 
Cossacks’ hands, to starve to death in the city or die 
in battle. 

In the city there were also quite a number of Poles 


182 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


and several hundred Polish soldiers. So the Jews and 
the Poles entered into a solemn pact under oath, and 
the rabbi, Reb Aaron, the head of the Tulchin yeshi- 
vah and the Duke Tchwerchinski affixed their signat- 
ures to a document. They agreed to fight side by 
side to the last man and the last drop of blood in 
defense of the city against the Cossacks. 

And a great friendship rose up between the Poles 
and the Jews. The Jews gathered in the synagogues, 
the Poles in the churches, and prayed God to save 
them from the hands of the Cossacks, and they swore 
to defend each other. They called each other com- 
rade. The Poles addressed the Jews as “dear 
friends,’’ and the Jews shared with them the food 
which they brought together in the city to enable them 
to withstand the siege until help should come from 
the Polish nobles. 

The Poles and the Polish soldiers commanded by 
Duke Tchwerchinski, who were more familiar with 
the art of warfare than the Jews, and knew how to 
use firearms, undertook to defend the fort of Tulchin. 
And the Jews, who were more numerous and more 
courageous than the Poles, being in greater danger, 
undertook to defend the weaker and less defensible 
sections of the city. 

They armed themselves with Turkish weapons and ~ 
flint-locks, which they obtained from _ the fort. 
Around the rampart they raised high scaffolds and 
ladders, built platforms, and assembled heaps of 
stones and other heavy objects. The women pre- 
pared great cauldrons of molten tallow, scalding 


FOR THE FAITH AND FOR THE TORAH 183 


cereals and boiling water, and brought them to the 
ramparts. Frequently the Jews allowed the Cossacks 
to come close to the wall and apply their crowbars 
for making a breach. Then the Jews would sud- 
denly hurl down upon them a hail of rocks and pour 
down on their heads cauldrons of seething tallow. 
And the Cossacks fled, leaving behind them their 
crowbars together with their dead at the foot of the 
walls. And more than once did the Jews, as in 
ancient times during the siege of Jerusalem, sally 
forth out of the city, and with utter contempt of death, 
they fell upon the ranks of the Cossacks, killed many 
of them and drove the rest back to their tents. 

The food-supply of the city, however, began to 
dwindle. The food which the Jews had gathered in 
the city was, by a special food administration, divided 
into two equal parts for the Jews and the Poles. 
First they fed the women and children. The men 
would frequently capture their food from the Cossacks. 
By their sentinels they were informed of the time 
when the Cossacks used to drive together herds of 
sheep and other cattle, and the Jews would rush out 
of the city and into the midst of the Cossacks, take 
away the cattle and drive them into the city. In this 
way the Jews would provide the city with food enough 
to last for weeks. 

Among the Jewish defenders was Mendel, the par- 
nas of Zlochov. After losing his son under his very 
eyes as he swam across the river, and hearing nothing 
of his daughter-in-law, who had gone away with old 
Marusha, he took his wife and went with her to Tul- 


184 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


chin, together with other fugitives, in the hope that 
old Marusha might have brought Deborah to Tulchin 
by a different road. But not finding her in Tulchin 
and being certain that his son, after falling into the 
hands of the Cossacks, was no longer alive, he 
grew tired of life. Having nothing further to live 
for, he had no further desire to live. But Mendel’s 
instincts were too robust, and his fear of God 
too strong, for him to put an end to himself. He, 
like many others, having lost all hopes of personal 
happiness, gave up all his thoughts to the welfare of 
the community as a whole. The community of 
Tulchin became his child, his Shlomo, his future, his 
own life. In the community he found his strength 
again, and for its life he threw himself into battle with 
an utter contempt of death, and of the personal 
happiness of which he felt the need no longer. Wish- 
ing to die for the Jewish faith, he was the first to 
throw himself into battle, first in dangerous enter- 
prises, inspiring the others to follow him, kindling a 
holy enthusiasm in them with his words. 

“Jews,” he would say, his eyes sparkling with 
inspiration, “‘they have killed our children, they will 
kill us, but our God lives forever. Then let us battle 
for His glory, for the faith and for the Torah.” 

And the Cossacks no longer understood or recog- 
nized the Jews. Are those the Jews who used to 
gather in the towns like bound sheep, like slaughtered 
fowl? Like wild tigers the Jews used to rush out 
upon the Cossacks from the ramparts, with bare hands 
or armed with clubs or crowbars, and with the cry 


FOR THE FAITH AND FOR THE TORAH 185 


“For the faith and for the Torah,’’ they fell upon 
the hordes of Cossacks. They paid no heed to the 
arrows which fell among them nor to the bullets, nor 
could they be halted by the roar of the cannon. 
With cries and blazing eyes, they tore through the 
clouds of smoke which belched from the mouths of 
the cannon, and fell upon the Cossacks, bit them with 
their teeth, gouged out their eyes with their fingers, 
and with their long knives they slashed throats and 
cleaved heads. Often a Jew would clasp a Cossack 
in a furious embrace, bury his teeth into the Cossack’s 
throat, and with characteristic Jewish stubbornness 
hang on until they fell down together, and Jewish 
and Christian blood mingled on the ground. 

Many Jews, in their readiness to die, put on burial- 
clothes, prayer-robes and prayer-shawls, and with 
knives in their hands, rushed in among the Cossacks. 
The hordes, seeing the white-clad figures sweeping 
through the night with blazing eyes and faces illumin- 
ed by a holy light, were stricken with panic. They 
used to sink down on their knees before the white Jews 
and pray to them as to angels: 

“Lord, have mercy!” 

Others were stricken with terror by the dreadful 
anger which blazed from the white Jewish faces, and 
they fled with wild cries as though pursued by un- 
earthly apparitions and spread panic among the Cos- 
sacks. And whole regiments of soldiers fled before 
the Jews dressed in their burial-dress, leaving every- 
thing behind them. 

For weeks the Cossack army lay encamped behind 


186 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


the walls of Tulchin, unable to take the city. In 
vain did Krivonos curse and revile his captains, the 
Cossacks fled before the white Jews as if the terror 
of God had struck them. Krivonos, however, had 
determined to take the city by storm. He was 
ashamed before the Tatars in his camp that the 
Cossacks were running away from the Jews. He 
was afraid of Chmelnitzki and feared also lest the 
Khan of the Tatars become aware of the matter. 
So he gathered together great hosts of Cossacks and 
peasants from all the surrounding regions. In their 
tens of thousands came the peasants from the towns 
and villages. Horses, vehicles and men covered the 
country roads about Tulchin as with a black garment. 
In the city could be heard the roaring and neighing 
that rose up from the camps of the besiegers. At 
night their blazing fires could be seen over the entire 
steppe, myriads of fires stretching far, far across the 
steppe. 

The Jews were not afraid, being ready to die to 
the last man. Not like sheep would they die, how- 
ever, but in battle, in battle for God and for His Torah. 
The slogan which the parnas of Zlochov had pro- 
claimed in the community, transformed men doomed 
to death into heroes, rekindled in the Jews the ancient 
Jewish spirit. Death was a joy to them. And as 
in olden times behind the gates of Jerusalem, so did 
they fight now. All night the women carried stones 
up the ladders, boiled tallow and lead, and dragged 
large buckets of pitch upon the scaffolds behind the 
walls, making ready for the battle. 


FOR THE FAITH AND FOR THE TORAH 187 


Tchwerchinski and his six hundred Polish soldiers, 
armed with muskets and cannon, were in the fort. 
With him, also, was the entire Polish population of 
Tulchin, and all were armed to defend the city. 

When the first glint of dawn lighted the summits 
of the towers of Tulchin, Krivonos ordered his first 
ranks to the wall with iron borers. These consisted 
of peasants from the surrounding region, whom 
Krivonos had armed. He expected that the Jews 
would hurl down upon them all their stones and 
pour out all their pitch, so that when the more 
experienced Cossack soldiers approached, the Jews 
would be weakened. But unexpectedly the Jews let 
fly with cannon before the peasants arrived at the 
wall. In the night they had removed the cannon 
from the fort and stationed them on buildings near 
the wall. When the peasants heard the roar of the 
cannon and found themselves enveloped in clouds 
of smoke, they fled in every direction. Krivonos 
ordered out column after column, and the Jews con- 
tinued to drive them off with bullets and cannon- 
balls. All day the Jews kept on driving the Cossacks 
away from the walls, but when night came the Cos- 
sacks finally reached the wall and began to place 
their borers in position. Then the Jews met them with 
a hail of stones, poured upon them molten lead and 
heated cereals; lumps of burning pitch fell from the 
wall on the heads of the Cossacks. Many were burned 
by the flames and lay smoldering across their borers. 
But ever greater numbers of Cossacks continued to 
gallop up to the wall on their horses, and the fire 


188 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


which rained down from the walls consumed them in 
ever greater numbers. 

The Cossacks bellowed and shouted and roared, 
urging each other on with shouts and hurrahs, but 
the rain of fire did not cease from the rampart and 
the heaps of corpses smoldering in the burning pitch 
rose ever higher at the foot of the wall. Finally the 
gate of the wall opened and hosts of white Jews rushed 
out; and with knives in their hands, and the cry 
“For God and for His Torah,” they fell upon the 
hordes like demons. And as soon as the peasants 
saw the white hosts of Jews, the terror of God fell 
upon them and they fled in every direction. And 
the Jews returned to the city singing Psalms. 

Night came at last, and the Cossacks gathered 
around their campfires. From the other side of the 
wall the singing could still be heard. All night the 
sound of singing was heard from the city. It was 
the song of those who sang Psalms and cried aloud 
to God. And it was not the cry of such as are be- 
sieged, but a great paean of praise from those who 
are prepared to die for His glory, for the faith and for 
the Torah. 

And in the starry night the Cossacks whispered to 
each other, seated near their fires: 

““The ancient Jewish God has awakened, has come 
back from Jerusalem, and is now with the Jews in 
the city. Woe unto us! Woe unto us!” 


a 


CHAPTER TWELVE 
THE LETTER 


In his tent, on a pile of Cossack rugs, lay Krivonos, 
the Cossack leader, covered with a sheep-skin coat, 
although it was a warm night in the month of Ab. 
The atmosphere of the tent was heavy with a stifling 
odor of a kind of horse-tallow with which an old 
Cossack granny, half sorceress and half healer, anoin- 
ted the legs of the leader every night. The odor of 
the tallow gripped the throat and irritated the nose. 
The Cossack officers who sat around the leader 
set up such a violent sneezing and coughing that the 
flames of the tallow candles which were stuck in 
the tall Turkish candle-sticks writhed and flickered. 

Krivonos was in very bad humor. He was tortured 
by the rheumatism. His legs and feet were moist, 
and felt as heavy as if big stones were tied to them. 
And the tent was so hot, and inside his legs was 
a sharp pain which gnawed and gnawed like a worm, 
and made it impossible to think of anything else. 
And there were such important and serious matters 
to consider. It was now four weeks that they had 
been besieging Tulchin, unable to take thecity. They 
should long ago have been in Bar, they should have 
been in Lvov, and Prince Vishnewetzki might arrive 
in the meantime. And all because of what? Be- 
cause of the Jews! It was not soldiers who were 


190 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


holding them up, but Jews! How would such a 
thing appear to Chmelnitzki? Unable to take Tul- 
chin because of the Jews! Cossacks fleeing before 
Jews! He cursed and reviled his captains, and the 
nearest one whom he was able to reach he struck a 
violent blow on the head with his club. 

‘‘Oh you boobies, clods! Since when have Cossacks 
been running before Jews? The Tatars will learn 
of it, the Khan will scoff at us, will laugh in his sleeve. 
We'll become a mockery and a byword. Then he 
will desert the Cossacks and go back to Astrakhan, 
and the little brothers will be left alone, a plaything 
for the Poles to be taken to Warsaw and there be- 
headed.”’ 

‘“‘ Ah, dear little father, do not scold. Of the Jews 
alone we would have no fear. It’s the Demon we 
are afraid of, the Demon who has begun to hobnob 
with the Jews. As soon as the Jews come out of 
the gates, the Demon appears among them. He is 
dressed in white robes and has long knives in his 
hands. And the Demon is so numerous, the devil 
knows what it all means. Now he is here, now he 
is there. And the moment the Cossacks spy the 
Demon among the Jews, nothing will avail. They 
throw everything away and run, so that you couldn’t 
hold them with iron chains.” 

“Tt’s not the Demon, it’s their God who appears 
in the robes,”’ says another captain. ‘It is said that 
their God has returned and is aiding them. In that 
case, woe unto us Cossacks!” 

“‘God or Demon, you, captains, deserve to be be- 


THE LETTER 191 


headed for the disgrace which you have brought on 
the Cossacks. We have promised the Khan two 
hundred girls and women from Tulchin, besides many 
slaves. And here we stand, and the Jews even take 
away our cattle. Was such a thing ever heard of? 
Are you Cossacks? Dogs, that’s what you are, mangy 
curs, women’s petticoats!’ the leader cursed and 
struck at those whom he could reach. 

“Ah, dear little brother, you’ll not accomplish 
anything here. We must devise a trick, someclever 
trick for getting into the city, just as we did in Nemi- 
rov. There is nothing else to do,”’ says one of them. 

“You'll not fool them any more with Polish flags. 
Nemirov has made the Jew devils crafty.” 

In a corner sat a silent Cossack, a tall thin fellow, 
with calm black eyes, who observed all things closely 
and said nothing. Though his face was rough and 
savage, he nevertheless had the appearance of one 
who was “‘literate,’’ a “‘scholar’’ among the Cossacks. 
He had a melancholy expression and was busy 
picking lice from under his arms. 

“Hey, you! Why are you silent? What are you 
scheming? You hear everything and say nothing,” 
the chief flung at the silent Cossack. 

“What is there to say? There is nothing to say, 
we must act,’’ replied the Cossack without interrupt- 
ing his occupation which, it was evident from his 
expression, afforded him immense pleasure. 

‘* And how shall we act?”’ 

“Write a letter.” 


192 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


“To whom? To the Jews?’ they all asked in 
surprise. 

‘“‘Be silent, Cossacks!’ the chief commands. 

“To the Pollacks.”’ 

‘What shall we write to them?” asks the chief. 

‘““We must remind them of our Lord Jesus. Hiding 
behind Jews, that’s what they are doing! How is it 
they are not ashamed of themselves? It’s a disgrace 
for a Christian to seek protection from a Jew. Let 
them deliver the Jews to us, and we will spare them 
like Christians and divide the booty between us.”’ 

“What? Let our enemy the Pollack live, so that he 
may avenge himself on the Cossack later?’’ 

‘“‘And deliver the booty to them?” 

“Who ever heard of Cossacks asking Pollacks for 
favors?” 

“Let them but open the gates of the city, let us 
but find ourselves inside the city, then we shall see,”’ 
the Cossack replies. 

“Ah, Vassil, you old fox.” 

‘“‘And what will happen if the Pollack will not listen 
to us?” 

“We must write in such a way that he will listen. 
There is no more bread in the city. Soon, the food 
will give out completely, and then, when they fall 
into the hands of the Cossacks Hy 

“Good!” 

‘“‘Sit down, scribe, and write. I will dictate,’ 
the chief commanded. 

The tall Cossack, who was the counsellor, and the 
only ‘literate’? one among the Cossacks, sat down at 





THE LETTER 193 


the table, which was covered with little pools of brandy 
and littered with the leavings of the last meal. He 
cleaned the table and threw over it a Cossack cloak. 
Then he took out of a little box a piece of parchment, 
a goose-quill and ink of a sort, which he had taken 
along for the purpose. They moved the candle- 
sticks closer to him, and the Cossacks sat or stood 
around him, helping to dictate the letter to the Poles. 

But Krivonos found it impossible to give any thought 
to the letter. The pain in his legs became sharper and 
more biting. His face which scowled with anger 
took on a grimace of pain, and he shouted: 

“The granny! Bring in the granny!”’ 

One of the Cossacks went out and returned a few 
minutes later with the old woman. 

‘‘Blood is what we need, fresh blood of a young 
thing,—and it must be still warm so that it may warm 
up your bones, dear little father, and the pain will 
stop,’ said the granny, feeling the Cossack’s suffering 
limbs. 

The Cossack became silent. They looked at each 
other with earnest, thoughtful faces, on which a sort 
of fear was discernible. More than once had they 
seen in Nemirov and other cities the fresh blood of 
young, still palpitating, little bodies that had been 
rent asunder. But they themselves did not do it. 
It was the Tatars who did it. The Cossacks did not 
murder children, only older people. 

“How do you mean, fresh blood—Jewish?”’ asked 
the chief. 

“The blood of a kid will do,’’ the old woman replied. 


194 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


‘Go, dear little son, bring me a kid, a young one. 
There must be such a one in the stables. If not, go 
to the fold and bring me a little lamb, but it must 
be young, newly born,”’ the old woman explained to 
one of the Cossacks. 

The Cossack went out and after a long while re- 
turned, holding in his arms a white little kid which 
looked around ‘in surprise, frightened by the lights 
and the people, and cried in a quavering voice like 
a little child. 

“Rend it apart, dear little father, and let the blood 
flow on your sick legs,’’ said the old woman to Krivonos, 
‘‘Then cover your legs with the torn little body, and 
the pain will subside at once.”’ 

Krivonos stretched out his bare sick legs and took 
the little kid. Thecreature trembled. Its quavering 
call ended abruptly. Then a stream of young, fresh, 
warm blood began to flow down on the Cossack’s 
legs, which he then covered with the warm lacerated 
flesh. 

“And now cover yourself well, dear little father, 
and let the blood warm you through. You have 
given Satan his due, he will now calm himself.”’ 

And, in truth, the Cossack leader now felt his pain 
relieved. The young, fresh, still palpitating little 
body yielded a pleasant warmth like the body of an 
infant. The pain disappeared and Krivonos was 
able to dictate the letter: 

“Tn the name of Jesus Christ, may He be glorified 
for ever and ever, Amen! 

“Before our worthy brothers, the Poles, we beat 


DAE PETER 195 


the ground with our foreheads, and send you greetings. 
We pray for you day and night to our Lord God that 
He preserve you against war, famine and pestilence, 
to-day and forever, Amen! 

“It has come to our ears how the name of our Lord 
God is become a mockery and a byword, and we have 
seen how Christians, our worthy brothers, the Poles, 
are put to shame in that they seek protection and 
safety from the enemies of Christ, the Jews. Wherefore 
our Christian hearts have been exceedingly pained. Is 
it fair and fitting that Christians, our worthy brothers 
the Poles, should enter into comradeship with the 
enemies of Christ, the Jews, against their brother 
Christians? And is it fair and fitting that the valorous 
Poles should allow themselves to be protected by 
Jews? Wherefore we have thought to send you 
messengers with greetings and peace, and we pray 
you, dear brothers, to receive well our messengers and 
fittingly, and to give ear to their words. 

“Dear brothers! 

“Not against you nor your wives and children, nor 
against your possessions, nor against anything which 
is yours have the Cossacks gone out to wage war. 
Not against Christians do we wage war, but against 
the enemies of Christ, against the Jews who crucified 
our Lord Jesus, and stole our possessions. Against 
them and against everything which is theirs have the 
Cossacks gone out to fight the battle of Christ. You, 
Poles, are our brothers, and we will treat you like 
brothers. If you will deliver the Jews to us, then 
we will spare you and your wives and children and 


196 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


everything which belongs to you. And in order that 
the Jews may not hide away their possessions, pro- 
claim among them that we, the Cossacks, are 
prepared to abandon the city if they will assemble all 
their possessions, their gold and silver, their silks and 
garments, and offer them as aransom. Let the Jews 
bring their wealth to you in the fort, and when they 
shall have brought together their gold and silver, open 
for us the gates of the fort and let the Cossacks in. 
On the enemies of Christ we will avenge ourselves 
even as they did crucify God. But you and your 
wives and children and everything which is yours we 
will spare, and the wealth we will share with you. 
So help us our Lord Jesus Christ, Amen!” 

In the dark night two riders took the parchment, 
which was written with the aid of the warm blood 
of the rent kid, to the Christians of Tulchin. A white 
flag fluttered pale in the light of the stars. And when 
the sentinels on the tower of the fort called down to 
the horsemen: “‘Who goes there?” the horsemen 
raised aloft their white flag and the parchment and 
called out: 

“In the name of Jesus Christ.” 


CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
THE GREAT ORDEAL 


Duke Tchwerchinski informed the Jews that the 
Cossacks were ready to abandon the city in return 
for all the gold and silver, the silk fur-coats, and other 
garments which the Jews would offer as a ransom. 
Reb Aaron, the head of the yeshivah and rabbi of 
the city, called a meeting of the parnasim and notables, 
and they resolved to redeem their lives with their 
possessions. So they proclaimed in the synagogues, 
in the market-places and about the ramparts that the 
Jews bring all their belongings to the Duke in the 
castle as ransom for the Cossacks. 

And the Jews assembled their possessions, saying 
to themselves: ‘“‘Let gold and silver be the scape- 
goat for our lives,’’ and praised God who sends sal- 
vation. 

There were many precious vessels among the objects 
which the Jews brought to the castle:  silver-filigree 
cups, the work of the Nuremberg craftsmen, which the 
Jews had brought from the fairs; lime-boxes in the 
shape of various fruits; spice-rods shaped like towers 
and engraved with flags and the signs of the zodiac, 
and menorahs with the symbols of the tribes. There 
were also all manner of jewels, of gold and silver and 
precious stones; expensive fur coats of sable and mink 
which they had bought from the Russian merchants; 


198 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


and much cloth of silk for garments, Italian brocades 
which they had purchased for ark-curtains and bridal 
gifts, and silks from Slutzk inwoven with silver and 
gold. For they withheld nothing in order to redeem 
their lives. And they assembled all this wealth in 
great heaps in the fort of Tulchin. The broad silver 
neck-bands gleamed among the dark, heavy furs, 
and the gold jewels and preciousstonessparkled among 
the wave of silks, velvets and satins which lay in 
heaps in the court-yards of the castle ready for the 
Cossacks. 

And as soon as the Jews had brought all their wealth 
the Duke said: 

“Give up your arms and bring them to this place.”’ 

Whereupon the Jews said: 

“What need has the Cossack of our arms? He has 
arms enough, and well he knows that we shall not 
pursue him when he withdraws from here. And 
we have taken up our arms only in order to defend 
ourselves and not, God forfend, for the purpose of 
attacking him. And now, since he is withdrawing 
from here and wishes to wage war against us no longer, 
what need has he of our arms?” 

To which the Duke replied: 

“The Cossack demands it, and he and I have so 
agreed.” 

- Then the Jews realized that the Poles had made a 
compact with the Cossacks for destroying them. 

And Mendel, the parnas of Zlochov, spoke and said: 

“We have brought you our wealth, but our arms 
we will not deliver up. For, if you demand our arms, 


THE GREAT ORDEAL 199 


it can mean nothing else than that you have made 
a compact with the Cossacks to betray us and deliver 
us into their hands. For what else can it mean that 
you demand from us the weapons with which we de- 
fended and saved the city?”’ 


And other Jews spoke after the parnas and said: 
“We will give up our wealth, but we will not sur- 
render our arms.”’ 


And still other Jews cried aloud and answered the 
Duke: 


“Tf we must die, then let us all die, the Poles to- 
gether with the Jews!’ 


And there was a young man there from Karsoon; 
he was thin and tall and his eyes blazed with the ven- 
geance of God. His ear-locks trembled and the teeth 
in his jaws chattered with anger, for the wrath of the 
Lord burned strong within him. And he snatched 
up a long knife and cried to the Jews: 


“The gentiles have betrayed us here just as in 
Nemirov. Let us avenge ourselves on them with the 
vengeance of the Lord, for God and for His Torah!” 


Like a sudden burst of flames the words of the young 
man seized upon the excited assembly. They had 
nothing more to lose. They had long before made 
their peace with death, but they wished to sell their 
lives dearly. There suddenly kindled up within them 
the ancient Jewish wrath. Their eyes blazed, ear- 
locks trembled and teeth gnashed. Weapons appeared 
in their hands and a rumbling as of distant thunder 
passed through the multitude: 


200»): KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


“The Gentiles have sold us!”’ 

“For Nemirov!’”” 

“For innocent Jewish blood!’ 
“For the faith and for the Torah!’’ 


And the multitudes, young men and old, two thousand 
strong, with the long knives in their hands, began to 
close in on the Poles, and soon the Duke with his 
soldiers and the other Poles together with their wives 
and children, all of whom were in the fort, were sur- 
rounded by the infuriated Jewish throng. The Jews 
drew nearer and nearer, forming a circle with the 
Poles in the center. Some of the Jews were already 
rushing on the Poles with their knives,and in another 
moment the most frightful massacre would have taken 
place, for the Jews were exceedingly exasperated. 
Suddenly some one in the throng called out: 

“Jews! Children of Israel, ye merciful sons of the 
merciful, what are you doing?” 

The multitude halted, and from its midst came forth 
an old man with a small beard of lustrous whiteness. 
He was dressed all in white, and with his bare, bony 
arms, which extended from his prayer-robe, he held 
back the enraged people. 

“Woe unto the eyes that look upon this!’ the 
old man cried. ‘‘Are these the merciful sons of the 
merciful? How can you forget yourselves just before 
your death, before the coming of the great ordeal!’ 

The people halted in the presence of the white beard, 
the bare arms and the long prayer-robe. They 
lowered their knives and there was a silence in the 


THE GREAT ORDEAL 201 


multitude as in a synagogue before the blowing of 
the shofar. 

“Jews are responsible one for another!’ the old 
man cried aloud. ‘If you kill the Gentiles they will 
avenge themselves on the Jews of other cities. Jews 
must not harbor any wrath, we must not take any 
revenge in our behalf! Save your strength for the 
proper moment when the great ordeal will arrive, for 
kiddush ha-shem, for the faith and for the Torah!”’ 

“They have sold us to the Cossacks! They will 
murder us as they did in Nemirov!”’ one of the people 
cried. 

‘And why are you better than the Jews of Nemirov? 
Did they not die for the sanctification of His Name? 
The Lord of the Universe calls for our souls, we will 
render them unto Him with joy and gladness. And 
let our hands be clean. We will not be like the Gen- 
tiles. They have betrayed us. May God’s wrath 
for the blood of the Jews which flows like water, fall 
upon their heads. We will not profane with revenge 
the kiddush ha-shem which God requires of us. We 
must look on and be silent—such is the will of God. 
Jews, give up your arms! If the Lord of the Universe 
wishes to help us, do we need our arms, those bits of 
wood and iron? Does the Omnipotent—He in the palm 
of whose hand are heaven and earth—does He need 
human weapons in order to help us? That is the 
salvation of the Gentiles. That is their strength. 
Our strength is God, and therefore save your own 
strength for Him, for the faith and for the Torah, 
when the great ordeal will come!” 


202 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


Then one stepped out from the multitude, approach- 
ed the Polish nobleman who, with the other Poles, 
stood and trembled in presence of the strange storm 
which raged around them, and threw his arms at his 
feet. 

And one after another they stepped up to the noble- 
man and threw at his feet their earthly weapons. 

A smile of bliss irradiated their features, their eyes 
blazed with a holy light. With a profound inner 
happiness, which transfigured their faces, they threw 
their weapons at the feet of the hobleman without 
raising their heads or giving him a glance, for they 
were so engrossed in their inner bliss that they were 
unconscious of his presence. 

The duke gave a command and the Poles opened the 
gate. The Jews said not a word. And soon the 
Polish soldiers surrounded them and ordered them 
to move on. The Jews started off. Rabbis in 
prayer-shawls walked in advance and the rest followed. 
And then the entire multitude, men, women, and 
children, took up jubilantly the song which the cantors 
were singing: 


The Lord is my light and my salvation, 
Whom shall I fear? 

The Lord is the stronghold of my life, 
Of whom shall I be afraid? 


And with song on their lips, they went forth to meet 
their death. 


CHAPTER FOURTEEN 


KippusH HaAa-SHEM 


Nay, but for Thy sake are we killed all the day. 
(Psalms) 


The Cossacks waited outside the fort. They 
surrounded the Jews and began to corral them like 
sheep, driving them into a large orchard with a fence 
around it. About two thousand Jews were there, 
men, women, andchildren. Among them were several 
rabbis: the old rabbi, Reb Aaron, the head of the 
yeshivah of Tulchin, and other rabbis, who were great 
students of the kabbalah. And they, together with 
the devout little tailor, who was already dressed in his 
burial-clothes with his prayer-shawl thrown over his 
head, were leading the Jews. The cantors continued 
to sing so as to prevent the Jews from falling into 
melancholy and being stricken, God forfend, with 
weakness. And the multitude sang after them: 


Though a host should encamp against me, 
My heart shall not fear; 

Though war should rise up against me, 

Even then will I be confident. 


The Jews did not know what the Cossacks intended 
to do with them: to let them live or to massacre them. 
It was all one to them. A courage which passed all 
understanding inspired them to die. They saw the 


204 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


gates of paradise opening before them. And it was 
not death they feared, but lest they be separated, 
lest their wives and children be taken from them. With 
their own hands they were ready to kill their nearest 
and dearest rather than see them defiled. The women 
looked upon the men, and in their glance was the 
knowledge of death. They did not weep, not even 
the children wept. The singing of the cantors trans- 
ported them into such an exaltation, into such spiritual 
joy, that every earthly feeling fell away from them, 
and some of them already lived the serene and in- 
finite life of the beyond. 

The orchard was full of ripe fruit. Itwas the month 
of Ellul, and the sun was shining, and the world had a 
holiday aspect, and they were all together, and the 
cantors were singing. And some of them saw a 
blue light, with the sky opening to receive them, 
and already they floated through the infinite space. 
And some heard the song which flows from the world 
beyond, where God sits with the righteous and expounds 
to them the Torah. And the children thought a 
great, great Yom Kippur had come, that the great 
Teacher Moses was about to arrive, that King David 
would play on his harp, and another moment and 
Messiah the King would come galloping on his white 
steed. There he comes galloping right out of the 
clouds, and everybody is waiting for him, and the next 
moment he will be here descending from the clouds. 

And fear was transformed into joy. A profound, 
infinite joy united them all. Fathers, mothers and 
children came together, and the whole multitude be- 


KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 205 


came as one family. The men held each other by 
their girdles, the children clung to their mothers, and 
the entire community gathered close about their 
rabbis and cantors. And the spirit of festiveness 
became exceedingly great, and, no one knows how, but 
one of the multitude suddenly began to chant the 
Praise Service: 


Hallelujah. 
Praise ye the name of the Lord; 
Give praise, O ye servants of the Lord... 


The cantors took up the Praise Service, and sang 
the verses of the Psalms in the holiday tune. The 
Praise Service roused the Jews to such a pitch of 
enthusiasm that they all caught up the tune, and the 
entire community, men, women and children, made 
the orchard ring with the festive song: 


From the rising of the sun unto the going 
down thereof 

The Lord’s name is to be praised. 

The Lord is high above ali nations, 

His glory is above the heavens. 

Who is like unto the Lord our God, 

That is enthroned on high? 


And the Jews took no note of how the orchard be- 
came filled with Cossacks and Tatars. Some of the 
newcomers were half naked, their bodies bulging out, 
in their hands nail-studded clubs. Others carried 
crooked swords, and the Tatars, through their small, 
half-closed eyes, peered at the women and girls and 


206 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


children. The Jews saw no one. They were all 
huddled together like a flock of sheep in a storm, the 
women and children in the center, and around them 
the men holding each other by the girdles. 


Out of my straits I called upon the Lord; 
He answered me with great enlargement. 
The Lord is for me, I will not fear; 

What can man do unto me? 

The Lord is for me as my helper; 

And I shall gaze upon them that hate me! 


A sound of trumpets was heard in the orchard. 
The Cossacks shouted hurrah, and made way for a 
a Cossack of small stature. On that hot Ellul day 
he wore a long fur cloak and a fur hat with a large 
tuft of feathers. The sun was hot and the long fur 
cloak trailed behind him. A Greek Catholic priest 
in a silk skirt walked behind him, holding aloft a 
large cross. A choir of church-singers, headed by one 
carrying a banner with a sacred image graven upon 
it, followed the priest. The Jews saw neither the 
Cossack leader Krivonos nor the church procession. 
They closed their eyes so as not to see the cross and 
the sacred Christian image, and raised their voices 
louder as they sang the Psalms: 


All nations compass me about; 

Verily, in the name of the Lord I will cut 
them off. 

They compass me about, yea, they compass 
me about; 


KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 207 


Verily, in the name of the Lord I will cut 
them off. 

They compass me about like bees; 

They are quenched as the fire of thorns; 

Verily, in the name of the Lord I will cut 
them off. 


The Jewish voices mingled with the church choir, 
and it was as though the murderer and his victim were 
together intoning to God a song of praise in the glorious 
sunlight. The church choir soon became silent. The 
priest took the banner with the sacred image and 
stuck the pole into the earth. Ona green knoll near 
the banner the small, sickly Cossack who was per- 
‘spiring in the long fur cloak, took his stand. Krivo- 
nos’ face was gloomy and impassive like the face of 
asick man. Fora minute he gazed upon the compact 
Jewish multitude holding each other’s hands, their 
song swelling louder and louder with ever greater joy 
and ecstasy, seeing neither him nor the sacred image 
nor the Cossacks standing around them with swords, 
pikes and clubs, as though they were somewhere else, 
seeing other things and hearing other voices, and 
knowing nothing of what was going on around them. 


Krivonos was frightened by the tempestuous singing 
of the Jews. He was frightened by the ecstasy which 
shone in their faces, and remained standing in be- 
wilderment, not knowing what to do. His sickly 
face became agitated and his little eyes opened wide 
with an expression of fear. The priest handed him 
the cross. 


208 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


Krivonos did not know what to do with the cross. 
He looked with fear, now at the Cossacks, now at 
the Jews. At length he lifted the cross high above 
his head, and, with that gesture, his self-assurance 
came back to him. 

‘Jews!’ he cried, ‘‘Whoever will come near the 
flag and bow down before the cross shall live!” 

The Jews did. not hear his words. They did not 
even see him who stood there and spoke to them. 
None of them glanced even once at Krivonos or the 
Cossacks. Again their voices resounded joyously 
among the trees and mounted into the brilliant sky: 


The voice of rejoicing and salvation is in the 
tents of the righteous; 
The right hand of the Lord doeth valiantly. 


‘Jews, I call on you again! Do you not hear me? 
He who wishes to live, let him come to the flag and 
bow down before the cross!”’ 


The right hand of the Lord is exalted; 
The right hand of the Lord doeth valiantly. 


The song of the Jews rang out louder and more 
resonant in the orchard. 

Krivonos stood bewildered and did not know what 
todo. He looked in perplexity at the priest. 


“It’s Satan whom they are sending against you. 
Drive him off and do the work of God,”’ said the priest 
to the trembling Krivonos, and made over him the sign 
of the cross three times. 


KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 209 


“For the last time I call upon you: Whoever will 
accept the Christian faith shall live. Come here to the 
cross!” 


This is the day which the Lord hath made; 
We will rejoice and be glad in it. 
This is the day which the Lord hath made; 
We will rejoice and be glad in it. 


This was the reply the Jews made in joyous song. 
And again Krivonos remained standing, not knowing 
what to do, and looked with bewilderment at the priest. 


“Do the work of God,” said the priest, again and 
again making the sign of the cross over him. 


“Cossacks! The Jews! At them! Hurrah!” 

The shout of ‘ Hurrah!” rang through the orchard, 
and from every nook of it Cossacks rushed out upon 
the Jews. Some carried crooked swords, others long 
pikes, still others nail-studded clubs. And they fell 
upon the Jews. 

The Jews embraced each other, husbands, wives and 
children clasped in each other’s arms, and they 
cried in unison: 


“‘Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One!” 


For a moment the cry to God seemed to rise above 
the shouting of the Cossacks. But one by one they 
were silenced, snuffed out like the flames of candles. 
And amid the trampled grass and broken branches 
were stretched out whole families: fathers, mothers, 
and children. Their blood became intermingled and 
their souls rose up together. They died clasped in 


210 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


each other’s arms together intoning the ‘‘Shema 
Yisroel!” 

Fourteen hundred men, women and children were 
slaughtered that day in that orchard of Tulchin by 
the Cossacks. The rest were led away by the Tatars 
to the slave-markets. But not a single one of them 
purchased his life with his faith, 


Under a tree, in the trampled grass and amid broken 
branches, lay the body of the parnas of Zlochov. 
His eyes were open and turned heaven-ward. Even 
now, with all the pallor of its lips, his face, which had 
aged considerably in the past few months, revealed 
strength and vitality, and it was hard to believe that 
the tanned face with the rough, peeling skin was dead. 
For there shone on the face the most tranquil and 
wholesome of smiles. 

And perhaps the reason for that was that near him 
lay Yocheved. But how her face looked can not be 
known, because she kept it buried in his bosom... 


The orchard was as silent as the steppe. In the 
grass and amid broken branches, trampled fruit and 
dry leaves, bodies lay strewn, trampled and crushed 
like the fruits of the trees. One might think there 
lay only bundles of garments bespattered with mud 
and blood. Only where a face appeared, either of 
a man with blood-clotted ear-locks, or of a woman with 
dove-like eyes sealed, or of a sleeping child, there 
shone forth the calm, demure smile of a profound 
inner bliss. It was as though the people lived on, and 


KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 211 


saw something in their new life, and heard something, 
not of this world and not of this earth. 

On the green knoll the Christian flag fluttered as 
though ashamed. Krivonos had forgotten to take it 
with him when he went into the city to massacre the 
Christian Polish population. 





CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
IN THE ORCHARD 


All day the orchard of Yerem’s mother was fragrant 
with honey. The bees buzzed in and out of the bee- 
hives, which were built in hollow trees, and swarmed 
about the white, sun-bathed honey flowers with which 
the entire field of the orchard was covered. The 
branches of the trees sagged under the loads of ripe 
plums which kept falling to the ground. They were 
left there to rot in the grass and emitted the sharp 
odor of decaying fruit. Several sheep wandered about 
the orchard with long black wool and stupefied ex- 
pressions, who seemed to bore themselves with nib- 
bling the grass and, out of boredom, licked each other 
with their long tongues. A swarm of little ducks 
arrived on the scene together, like a deputation of 
respectable housewives on an important mission, sway- 
ing their fat little bodies on their short legs. For no 
reason at all, a goose suddenly flapped in, its wings 
spread out awkwardly, and started off with a great 
outcry; but suddenly coming upon the dog Bugo, 
whom she woke up from his sleep, she reeled back in 
great fear, and in order to avoid unpleasant develop- 
ments, she went off in another direction, folded her 
wings, and finally calmed herself. 

In the orchard, among the sheep, the ducks, the 
geese and other domestic birds and beasts, Deborah 


IN THE ORCHARD 213 


wandered about. On her feet she wore little shackles, 
which Yerem had placed there in order to prevent her 
from escaping, and that he might always hear her 
footsteps. And instead of her own headdress, she 
already wore a Cossack veil on her head, which con- 
cealed her face. She roamed listlessly about the gard- 
den, and the bells rang mournfully in time to her 
slow footsteps. And in this manner, she came to the 
brook, which ran through the orchard, and sitting 
down on the bank, gazed into the water. 

But Yerem, who watched her footsteps, followed 
her. Slowly he came up to the brook, and sat down 
near her. 

“Why are you still sad, pretty Jew girl? You are 
still unable to forget your people. You have cast a 
spell over me and you have poisoned my heart. Woe 
is me, what will I do?” 

“Be silent, Yerem, you have promised me, have you 
not, that until the wedding you will not torment me, 
and will let me bewail my people?” 

“Yes, that is true; true, I did promise you. But 
my heart becomes as withered as a parched spring 
only from looking at you. And you refuse to eat our 
bread. . You insult our food and eat only what your 
nurse brings you,—fruits and vegetables. And you 
are already my bride, are you not?” 

“I promised my dead, Yerem, to observe their law 
until I shall leave them. Oh Yerem, let me observe 
my law. For you are good, and you love me.”’ 

“Yes, my love for you is terrible, Deborah. Because 
of you I shalldie very young. I will commit crimes for 


214 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


you. I could kill my own brother for you. Say it, 
and J will go with you to the end of the world. We 
will settle on a lonely island, a little brook will run 
in front of our house and red poppies will blossom be- 
fore our windows. And I will be your peasant and 
you will be my queen. Oh! Queen mine, little angel 
mine, you pure dove, what is this power that you have? 
Your eyes are like*those of a dove, and they are break- 
ing my heart and I could die here, on this spot.” 

The young peasant bowed before her and, burying 
his face in his hands, he suddenly broke into sobbing 
like a little child. 

“Calm yourself, Yerem. You are good, and I like 
you. Your heart is good. Calm yourself, Yerem.” 
And she stroked his hair with her hand as a mistress 
strokes her dog. 

“Oh, you white little lamb of mine, Oh, you dove 
mine, why do you torment me so, my love? Why 
do you torture my heart so? Oh, make an end of 
my life altogether.”’ 

“Oh, you will live, Yerem, you are young and strong 
and you are good.” 

‘“‘But of what good is my life to me, if I do not know 
when you will be mine? You lay it off from day to 
day, and love gnaws at my heart as the worm at the 
tree, and I am withering away. Tell me, my angel, 
where will I build my house? Near what river and 
in what land?” 

“Oh, Yerem, you will not have to wait long, not 
much longer,’’ she said sadly. 

“Tell me when?” 


IN THE ORCHARD 215 


“You promised me faithfully that you will not tor- 
ment me, for you love me.”’ 

“Good, I am silent now. If you wish it, say it; 
if not, tug away at my soul, tug away at my heart. 
Let it gnaw and gnaw until I die.’”’” And the peasant 
dug his face into the grass. 

‘Soon now the end will come, only wait a little, 
Yerem. It will be soon now, it will be soon.’’ She 
calmed him by laying her cool, white hand on his head, 
and her burning eyes sought some place in the distance. 


He watched over her like the apple of his eye, and 
followed her footsteps like a faithful slave. The 
Cossacks and peasants made a laughing stock of him, 
taunted him for sticking to his Jew girl, and a rumor 
began to circulate that the Jew girl had cast a spell 
over him: it could mean nothing else. 

One day Yerem returned from the city and brought 
something for Deborah. ; 

“‘ All the Jews and Poles of Tulchin have been killed, 
not a single one has been left alive,’’ he told her. 

“How do you know, Yerem?” Deborah asked him. 

“The peasants in the city reported it. They 
brought there a great many articles, which they had 
taken from the Jews, and here I have brought you 
something also, my pretty Jew girl. I bought it from 
a peasant for you. I gave him a sheepskin coat for 
its 

And Yerem took out of a shawl a pair of golden 
slippers and gave them to her. 

“They say that the Jews buy such slippers for their 


216 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


brides and that the Jew girls like very much to wear 
them, so I bought them for you, my pretty Jew girl.”’ 


Deborah took the slippers and examined them. She 
recognized them. They were the, slippers which 
Shlomo had brought her from Lublin when he came 
home from the yeshivah. 

‘How did you come by them?”’ Deborah asked him. 

“Bought them from a peasant. He found them on 
a dead Jew whom they had killed in Tulchin. The 
Jew held them clasped to his heart.” 

‘Was he a young man, that Jew, or an old one?” 
Deborah asked him. 

‘“‘T do not know, my pretty Jew girl. He did not 
tell me. But why have you become so pale, my little 
dove?” 

“‘ Afterwards, afterwards, I will tell you. The nurse, 
I want the nurse!” 

“What ails you?) Why are you so pale, little angel 
mine, dovelet mine? Why?” ‘The young peasant 
asked amazed. 

“ Afterwards, I will tell you everything. Oh, Yerem, 
soon, very soon, will be my wedding. Only for these 
slippers have I waited. Now the end will come soon. 
Nurse!” 

‘Nurse!’ Yerem called. 

And the old nurse barely had time to run out of 
the orchard, where she was feeding the chickens, when 
Deborah fell down on the lawn. 


“What ails her?” the peasant asked the nurse. 


IN THE ORCHARD 217 


The nurse saw the slippers in Deborah’s hands and 
uttered a great cry: 

“Lord, have mercy!” and caught up Deborah in 
her arms. 

Yerem stood by in amazement. 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
THE GOLDEN SLIPPERS 


The same evening the little, white honey flowers 
opened their petals and the garden was sweet with 
the fragrance of honey. Fireflies flashed and flickered 
in the air like souls astray. Far out on the steppe, 
little fires darted up here and there and died away. 
Each red poppy-head flared up. The stars huddled 
close together and the air shone with a supernatural 
light as though it were full of invisible bodies come 
floating out of another world. 


Deborah stood in the orchard near the bonfire which 
Yerem had lighted. From the hut came the strum- : 
ming of a “lyre”? which astray “‘ancient’’ was playing, 
as he sang a ballad to the assembled peasants. Drun- 
ken cries, weeping and laughter, also came fromthe 
hut where the peasants had collected all the loot which 
they had stolen from the Jews of Tulchin. They were 
dividing this loot and drinking Jewish wine. And 
the old man played for them on the lyre. 


Deborah stood near the fire, the shackles on her 
ankles ringing with every move she made. She stood 
like a young sapling, her eyes turned toward the stars. 
And she spoke as if she saw some one: 


“Soon I shall come to you, my husband, my chosen 
one. I see youinthelight. Your arms are stretched 


THE GOLDEN SLIPPERS 219 


out tome. Take me to yourself, my husband, my 
chosen one. I long for you.” 

She saw a blue sea flooded with light, and star- 
studded boats floating about. They are all sailing 
to the same shore. It is so light there. Impossible 
to look into the light. What a great light is there! 
The infinite, the everlasting is there! God is there, 
and all are floating straight into the great light. In 
every boat there is a Jewish family. She knows them 
all, all who arein the boats. And she seeks among the 
boats. And now she sees him. He is waiting for her 
in his boat. The others have all floated away. He 
alone is waiting. And now she calls to him: 

“Shlomo, Shlomo, wait for me. I come, I come, 
I come.’’ And she stretched out her arms towards 
the little boat in the sky. 

“‘Whom do you see? Whom are you speaking to? 
What ails you, beautiful Jew girl?” 

“Do not touch me. I am fire, you'll catch fire 
from me. See I am burning. I ama torch and you 
will burn yourself!’’ 

Her eyes blazed and her face caught the light of 
the shimmering stars. Her supple young form, draped 
in light colored shawls, seemed to have been kindled 
in the flames of the fire. She appeared to be burning. 

Yerem looked at Deborah and did not recognize 
her. It seemed to him that he had once seen her 
somewhere, but he could not remember where. Then 
something like a great light rose up before him. 

“IT know you! I know who you are! Oh, I know, 
sinful soul that I am! Oh! Oh!’ And he sank to 


220 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


his knees before Deborah and began to pray as one 
prays before a holy ikon. 

“Oh, Lord, have mercy!’ And he buried his face 
in his hands and began to weep. 

“T know. Now, I know. I have recognized you. 
You are a holy one, you are a saint. I saw you in 
church. On the holy ikon I saw you. Oh, I know 
now, sinful soukthat Iam. Have mercy, have mercy”’! 
the peasant stammered. 

“Be not afraid, Yerem. You aregood. You have 
a good heart. Be not afraid.” 

“Oh, sinful soul that Iam! Have mercy.” And 
the young peasant jumped up and ran away from her. 
And with a great noise he entered the hut where the 
peasants were assembled. | 

“Peasants,” he cried, ‘‘God is in the orchard, woe 
unto us!” 

The peasants put away their wine. The lyre be- 
came silent. They turned pale and asked each other: 

‘‘What is he saying?” 

But Yerem was frightened and wept like a little 
child. He pointed to the orchard. 

“There, outside!’ 

The peasants became infected with his dread. 
Stealthily and in great awe they approached the door 
of the hut and looked out. 

“Where?” 

‘There, near the fire. Don’t you see? Look! Look!’ 

“Your Jew girl is standing there, not God.”’ 

“I’ve recognized her. She came down from the 
ikon. It is God!’ 


THE GOLDEN SLIPPERS 221 


“She has cast a spell over you, she has bewitched 
you. Don’t you see it’s your Jew girl, not God? 
Do not sin.” 

“Peasants, I’ve recognized her. I looked deep into 
her face and recognized her. She isasaint. She has 
come down from the holy ikon.”’ 

“Let her prove that she is God.” 

““A miracle!’’ 

“Let her perform a miracle and we’ll believe that she 
is God. If not, then your accursed Jew girl is a witch. 
Then she ought to be burned.”’ 

“She has bewitched thelad. Into the fire with her!” 

“‘ Peasants, be silent and do not sin,’’ Yerem exclaim- 
ed; and approaching Deborah, he knelt before her from 
a distance and made obeisance before her as before a 
holy ikon. 

“Tell them, show them that I am not mistaken. 
Let them believe in God. Oh, prove to them, holy 
one, prove to them that you are God.” 

For a long interval Deborah was silent. Then she 
turned her luminous face to Yerem and said: 

“Call the nurse, Yerem.”’ 

But the nurse had been near her for a long time. 
She lay at her feet, her face hidden in Deborah’s 
dress, and wept. 

‘“‘Go, nurse, and bring me the golden slippers,”’ said 
Deborah in Yiddish. 

“Oh, my child, my little dove, Ican not. What are 
you going to do?” 

“T command you, nurse. Bring me the golden 
slippers.” 


Zoe KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


The nurse went to her room and brought the golden 
slippers. 

“Do not weep. Be merry. Put the slippers on 
me as you used to do when I was a little child. Do 
you remember how you sent me to him once when 
he was a little boy with a pear and an apple?” 
She whispered to the nurse. 

“Oh, I understand, I understand. But what are 
you going to do?” 

“Why, lam going to him. He is waiting there for 
me in his little boat to sail away with me to heaven.” 
And she embraced the nurse and kissed her. 

The nurse withdrew from her, and Deborah, the 
golden slippers on her feet, said to the trembling Yerem: 

“Yerem, take your flint-lock and fire at me.” 

A dread fell upon the peasants. They became in- 
fected with the panic which possessed Yerem. De- 
borah’s words terrified them. Some began to believe 
that they were in the presence of something super- 
natural. And one of them sank to his knees and 
mumbled: 

“Lord, have mercy!” 

And Yerem trembled and shook with fear. 

‘‘No, no, I'll not doit. Iam afraid.” 

“Be not afraid, Yerem, no harm can come to me. 
I am not here any more. I am already there, in 
heaven. I have put on the golden slippers which he 
sent me from heaven so that I might come to him, 
Go, Yerem, take your flint-lock and aim at my heart.”’ 

But the peasant continued tosob, and he stammered: 

“No, no, I am afraid, have mercy.”’ 


THE GOLDEN SLIPPERS VIR 


“T command you, Yerem. Go and bring the flint- 
lock, I will stand here near the fire so that you can 
see where to aim. Have I not told you that no harm 
can come to me? I command you. Do as I have 
said.’’ | 

Illumined by the flames of the fire, she looked like 
a young goddess who commands. And the fear of 
God fell upon the peasants. They sank to their knees. 
One of them began to chant and the rest joined him: 

“Lord, have mercy! Lord, have mercy!” 

One of the peasants handed the flint-lock to the 
kneeling Yerem. Deborah in the golden slippers 
stood in the light of the fire. 

‘Shoot, Yerem!’’ 

The peasants became silent. They remained kneel- 
ing on the ground. 

A report was heard. A little cloud of smoke rose 
up and caught the light of the fire. 

‘“‘Aim well, Yerem. See, no harm can come to me.’ 

Yerem discharged the weapon a second time. And 
again a little cloud of smoke rose into the air. 

Deborah began to sway and to sink to her knees. 

“She falls!’ 

“‘Blood!”’ 

“The accursed Jew girl! She has cheated us!’’ 
the peasants shouted, rising to their feet and running 
towards Deborah with clenched fists. 

“‘Accursed Jew girl! Cheated us!” 

But Yerem now stood guard over her. He held 
in his arms her swaying body, from which the blood 
flowed into the flames of the fire. 


9 


224 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


“Why have you done it, beautiful Jew girl? I 
loved you so?’ He stammered. 

‘Forgive me, Yerem, forgive me. I thank you 
for sending me to him. I knew you would send me 
to him. You are good, Yerem.”’ 

““Give her to me, she is my child!” cried the nurse, 
and running up she caught Deborah in her arms. 

Deborah now saw the star-studded boat. Shlomo 
was taking her by the hand to help her embark. 

‘Farewell, nurse,’”’ she stammered. 

‘“A happy journey, my child,” the nurse replied 
in Yiddish. 

And as though wanting to be alone, Deborah with- 
drew from Yerem, turned away from the nurse. She 
laid her head on the grass and the peasants who sur- 
rounded her heard from her lips the words which in 
those days they heard so often from the Jews: 

‘““Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is 
One!” 

And she became silent. 


In the city of Lublin, on the occasion of the annual 
fair, there came together that year the Assembly of 
the Four Countries. A great task lay before the 
Assembly. A great many Jews from the whole of 
Ukraine had congregated in Lublin. Fathers came 
seeking their children who had been carried off by the 
Cossacks, and many women were there who did not 
know whether they were wives or widows. And men 
were there whose wives had been carried off by the 
Tatars, and fatherless orphans and Jews whose settle- 


THE GOLDEN SLIPPERS 225 


ments had been destroyed and who had roamed all 
over the country unable to find a resting place. 

The city was full of refugees. Many found their 
kin whom they had long believed dead. Fathers 
found their children, husbands their wives, brothers 
their sisters. The Assembly strove to reconstruct 
Jewish life, to re-unite the families which the Cossacks 
and Tatars had cut asunder. It issued a decree 
commanding all Jews from the towns which had been 
destroyed toreturn and rebuild the Jewish communities, 
for the Polish king with his armies had driven the 
Cossacks back to the Russians, and Chmelnitzki was 
a captive in the hands of the Tatars. The Assembly 
collected a ransom fund from the wealthy and sent 
it to Turkey for the ransom of the Jewish captives. 
It granted permission to husbands to take back, for 
the sake of the children, the wives who had been held 
in captivity by the Cossacks. And it received back 
into Judaism those whom the Cossacks had compelled 
to embrace a strange faith. 

Among the refugees was Shlomele also. He had 
been ransomed by the Turkish Jews, together with 
other captives of the Tatars, who had brought him 
to the slave market at Constantinople. The Jews 
of Turkey learned that Shlomele was a graduate of 
the famous yeshivah of Lublin, so they wanted him 
to stay in Turkey, where they thought to open a 
yeshivah for the study of the Talmud in the Polish 
manner by the method of pilpul. But Shlomo 
longed greatly for his own people in Poland. Soa 
Jewish merchant of Saloniki took him aboard his 


226 KIDDUSH HA-SHEM 


vessel, which was bound with a cargo of merchandise 
for Naples. In Italy, also, they sought to detain 
him that he might teach young men the Talmud in 
the Polish manner. But Shlomo insisted on going 
home to Poland. So the Italian rabbis, some of them 
his comrades who had studied with him in the yeshivah 
of Lublin, gave him money and clothes and sent him 
away to Germany. 

For a long time he wandered about in Germany. 
There the terrible news reached him of what the 
Cossacks had done to the Jews of Tulchin, of Bar, and 
of the other towns. Finally he came to Poland and 
hastened to the fair in Lublin in the hope of getting 
some news of his own kin. 

In Lublin he came upon refugees from Tulchin, 
from Bar and from other towns, and he learned from 
some of the forced converts of the death of his father 
and mother, who had died for the sanctification of 
His Name together with the other Jews of Tulchin. 
But no one knew what had become of Deborah—of 
Deborah or of the Christian nurse. 

But Shlomo knew. He knew that she had gone up 
to heaven in holiness and purity. In heaven she was, 
and waiting for him. 

He did not mourn for her. Only a great longing for 
her took possession of him, and for the day when 
he would again be with her. 

And he roamed about through the fair of Lublin 
among the refugees, among the husbands separated 
from their wives and the wives separated from their 
husbands, among the widows and the orphans. He 


THE GOLDEN SLIPPERS 227 


heard the signs and moans of his people which rose 
up over the fair. And he pondered deeply on the 
matter. He sought to understand the meaning of it 
all. For a minute the meaning escaped him,—he 
could not understand, and he fell in a state of mel- 
ancholy. And this caused him deep grief, for it is a 
matter of common knowledge that melancholy is only 
one degree removed from doubting. 

And one day he walked in a narrow street in Lublin 
where the merchants’ stalls were located. And he 
saw standing before an empty booth an old man who 
was calling buyers into his booth. And he marvelled 
greatly, for the booth was empty, there was nothing 
in it tosell. And he walked into the booth and asked 
the old man: 

“What do you sell here? Your booth is void and 
empty, and there is no merchandise in it.”’ 

And the old man answered: 

“sell faith?’ 

And he looked intently at the old man, and the old 
man appeared to him familiar as though he had seen 
him before.... 

THE END 





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